A Lone Wolf
by Galadri
Summary: The Winchester boys have a new hunting partner, Anna, and she definitely has Dean's attention.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sam, Dean, or the Supernatural universe. If I did, I can think of many things to do... that my husband almost certainly wouldn't approve of. But, that's what fanfic is for!

P.S. Be kind. I've never posted here before.

**A Meeting**

Sam and Dean Winchester pushed against the factory door, opening it wide. The rusted hinges groaned in protest, and the faint light from a streetlamp illuminated dust particles as the two brothers cautiously entered. Sam, a tall man, was more suited to academia than the life of adventure he found himself leading. Dean, a little shorter than his younger brother, had the build of a man born to be either a cop, or a rake. This factory was the location of three suspect deaths, and almost ten missing people. Three days of research and asking questions had led the brothers to believe there was more than just a bad vibe here. Crossing the small reception area, a secretarial station was covered in papers and memos, as though whoever worked there had just stepped out for coffee and never come back.

Looking through the old memos and faded post-its, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that they were going to find more than they expected in this factory. Dean watched his brother, trusting Sam's instincts. Catching his eye, Dean raised his eyebrows in question, and Sam simply shook his head and shrugged, unsure how to express his thoughts. A sudden draft blew some of the papers off the table, and both brothers turned toward the source, noticing for the first time the two doors that beckoned into the gloom. Each man looked to his brother for an opinion, and moved as one toward the passages. Sam stared down the hallway closest to him, and Dean watched him closely.

"Okay, dude, split up or stay together?" Dean checked that his shotgun was fully loaded. Sam looked from one door to the other, grabbed the holy water from the backpack, and the handgun from Dean's holster. Locking eyes with his brother, Sam takes a deep breath. Dean raises an eyebrow and gives Sam a crooked smile. "Split up, then. Be careful, Sam. You know how the ghosts seem to like you."

Sam grimaced as Dean laughed. Each brother turned to a door, pulled out a flashlight and illuminated their path before cautiously going forward into the black.

Sam made his way forward slowly. He shone the beam from his flashlight on the floor, the walls, and even up onto the ceiling. He had no doubt Dean was right. Whatever there was here would probably come for him, but he had faith in Dean's gun.

_That's a scary thought._

Smiling to himself, Sam found himself at a door. The hallway had dead-ended without him really noticing. He tested the knob, and, finding the door unlocked, pushed it open wide, remaining in the hall. Sam poked his head into the room and moved the beam around to determine if he wanted to go in. Seeing nothing too strange, beyond the old-fashioned designer's dolly, Sam entered the room and checked the corners. Another door across the room was propped open by a cinder block. On a desk in one corner, Sam found more papers. Nothing really grabbed him as crucial, but he got the feeling once more that everything had been left by the employee with every intention of coming right back.

"What happened here?"

Dean stared with awe and dismay at the cavernous factory floor. The hallway he had chosen immediately became a staircase that descended almost three flights to the heart of the factory, which he now had to investigate. Walking forward, Dean swung the light from side to side, checking his angles and taking in his surroundings. Moving the light up the inner wall, lights from the windows behind him showing a little of what was revealed by the flashlight's harsh glare, a balcony was revealed, with a door that led into a room, the door held open by a cinder block. A light glowed dully. Dean watched for a moment, debating whether to try and find a way up, but a sneeze from the room changed his mind.

"Sam!" he called out.

Sam appeared in the doorway. He looked around with a "wow" expression before he noticed Dean standing down amongst the tables. His older brother looked miniscule, like a doll, amongst the rows and rows of tables with sewing machines on top, some still with pieces of cloth under the needles.

"Anything?" Sam called down.

"Nah," Dean returned. "You?"

"No," Sam called down. "There's something here, though."

Dean nodded. "Be careful!"

Sam nodded in agreement and went back into the office. Dean continued his tour of the work floor.

Sam walked back to the desk. There was a small planner that looked like it might have some information. Sam perched on the desk, gun tucked in his pants at the small of his back. Flipping through the pages, he noticed that whomever this office had belonged to, had frequently had lunch at a local hotel. Interesting detail, but otherwise no use.

"Come on. What happened here?"

"We paid for his crime."

Sam jumped at the voice and turned toward the balcony door. A small woman stood there, looking perfectly normal, until Sam realized that the entire right side of her body was burned and charred, bits of flesh and cloth hanging off her. He backed away only to bump into something crunchy. Jumping away, he whirled around to face another woman, her entire face, except her mouth and one eye, burned away, her body blackened with soot.

"He sinned. We are trapped."

"We can't get out. A man has sinned. The women have died."

A third woman spoke in his ear, so close that Sam could feel her breath on his neck. He spun to face this new speaker, and backed away, trying to keep all three women in his sight. Breathing heavily, he fought to make his voice work.

"Shotgun," he whispered. "Gun," he said, reaching for the revolver. "Dean!" he shouted, aiming the gun from one woman to the next. "Dean! Shotgun!"

Down on the factory floor, Dean turned toward his brother's voice.

"Dean! Shotgun!"

"Sammy!" Dean ran toward the wall, but there was no staircase or elevator to get up there. "Damn," he muttered to himself. He would have to go back up the three flights of stairs. Dean took off for the door he had entered, sprinting.

Sam's hand shook as he tried to take aim. He had encountered ghosts and the undead before. Sometimes they were pissed, sometimes they just wanted help, but these women were empty. There was no rage- no pain- and yet they were going to try and kill him all the same.

He fired one shot into the first woman who had spoke to him, but the shot went wide as he was jumped by yet a fourth woman from behind. The gun fell from his hand and spun away across the floor. Sam rammed himself backward into the wall and flipped the woman over his shoulder. She rolled away and Sam began inching toward the door, all our women advancing slowly, his attacker in front.

"Dean!" He shouted over his shoulder. "A little help, please!"

The woman jumped toward him, and Sam bared his teeth, eyes half closed, and threw his hands up to fight her.

BAM!

Sam's eyes flew open to see his assailant sail backward into the other women, disintegrating before his eyes. He exhaled and turned to thank his brother only to see a small woman shoving a second rifle into his arms.

"Fire!" she shouted and pulled a pistol from somewhere on her body. Sam spun and fired two rounds into the next attacker. His savior quickly dispatched the other two, holstered her pistol, grabbed him by the jacket, and proceeded to drag Sam out of the office.

"We have to cross the factory floor!" she ran ahead of him. "They've blocked off the reception area, and if we don't get to your brother first, he won't be able to fight them all off!"

They burst into the reception room, and Sam saw she was right. The doorway was blocked by at least a half dozen of the undead women, and they all seemed interested in him.

"Sam!" she called to him. He blinked and turned to follow her into the corridor his brother had taken.

Dean panted from exertion. He looked up the last flight of stairs with frustration. He had heard the gunshots, and only the first had been Sam's pistol. He pushed forward to climb the stairs, desperate to get to Sam.

"Hang on, Sammy," he panted. "I'm coming."

Dean turned the corner at the top of the flight, and took two steps toward the next flight when a body crashed into his. They both flew back into the wall, and an arm reached out around him to grab the railing to keep them both from falling any farther. Out of instinct, Dean had grabbed hold of the other person, but slowly his mind registered that it wasn't Sam. The body pulled away, and Dean had half a second to register it was a girl.

"Keep moving," she said tersely, and pushed Dean back down the way he had just come. "Sam, hurry up!"

She passed Dean on the stairs, and he reached out to stop Sam.

"Who's she?" he asked in a whisper.

Sam shrugged. "Lara Croft?" he replied, before hurrying after the girl.

Dean looked after the two of them, then down at the stairs.

"Aw, man," he groaned, and followed his brother down the stairs.

BAM!

The door burst off its hinges outward into the parking lot, Dean and Sam following it to the ground. Looking up to the building the brothers' eyes followed long lean legs up to a small waist and… healthy profile.

"On your feet!" she shouted, stepping over the Winchester boys.

"She's like Dad," Dean groaned as he rolled onto his knees. Sam merely gave a pained laugh in agreement.

"Only hotter," he replied. Dean laughed at his brother as they balanced each other to stand. The young woman strode before them across the courtyard toward the chain link fence. Dean looked around at the sun shining brightly in a clear sky, and breathed deeply as his nerves began to calm.

"Move your asses, Winchesters!" The girl holstered her shotgun beneath the long braid that hung down her back and turned back to face Dean and Sam. "A jacket," she demanded. Sam pulled off his flannel shirt and tossed it to her.

"Dude," Dean mumbled and elbowed his brother in the ribs. Sam shrugged in reply. She threw the shirt up and over the barbed wire topping the high fence, giving them all a safe place to exit. Without looking back, she climbed the fence, swinging her body over the top like a gymnast and jumped down to the street on the other side. The Winchester men followed suit, albeit somewhat less gracefully.

"Well then," she smiled at them as they pulled each other off the pavement. "I'll see you around then." She turned and walked away.

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean called after her. "Who the hell are you?"

The girl turned around and seemed almost to glide back. Her movements were like those of a cat, graceful with a hint of the dangerous animal barely concealed. This was a woman well aware of her body's every movement.

"Who am I?" A hint of an accent floated on her voice like honeysuckle on the wind. An accent Dean only ever heard in Texas, but the voice tugged at something in the back of his mind. A memory of some sort.

"I am the girl who just saved your butts." She turned away again and called back over her shoulder. "I'll call you if I ever need you to return the favor." Stopping suddenly she spun around to face Dean and Sam. "Until then, stay out of the factory. I've had to get three Winchester men out of there now. If there are more of you," she paused, laughing to herself. "I won't be around to help them."

The girl stepped off the curb and crossed the street to a black vintage Mustang. She climbed in, brought the beast to life, and pulled away as though Mario Andretti was coming up behind her.

"Did she just say three Winchesters?" Sam asked. Dean just stared at the retreating stallion.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday Night

The moon was high as Lawrence Thibideaux pulled the curtains open in his hotel room. He was a tall man with stylishly cut blonde hair and nearly black eyes. He wore an expensive shirt and tie with the pants of a couture suit, and had the air of one who expected to be dressed in only the finest. He missed the scents and subtle beauty of New Orleans. He admired the stark beauty of the Texas countryside, and the rugged appeal of the hill country, but he missed the damp bayou. Hurricane Katrina had displaced more than the city's population. It had destroyed an entire way of life.

Lawrence felt the moon calling to him. He longed to change and run free, but he didn't know this city. He had no idea of where to run and where he could hide. He had known New Orleans like the back of his hand, her curves and hiding places. But here, he felt even more of an outcast than he ever had before. He had to find Bernard, to stop him from hurting anyone else. Bernard had been difficult to control on the bayou, but here, so close to the desert, he would be almost impossible to curb. The darkness, the malicious desires Bernard exhibited in general were reason for concern. But when he gave reign to his baser nature, his animalistic appetites, he became a true terror. The only thing that had kept him from losing control back home had been Lawrence and the Den council.

Behind him, a cell phone trilled. Lawrence had never taken to those garish musical rings, preferring a simple ring. He crossed the room and pulled the phone from its place in his coat pocket.

"Hello?" His velvet and whisky drawl fit the image of the Southern gentleman that Lawrence exuded. "Yes, I'm here. No, Houston was as bad as I remembered." He dug into the pocket of his coat once more and pulled out a pack f cigarettes, lighting up as he listened to the speaker on the other end of the line. "Has anyone gone north? I agree, Dallas is dry, but he may be making his way further north to the-"

Lawrence stopped as the other speaker raised in volume considerably. Holding the phone slightly away from his ear, Lawrence took a long drag on his Camel, and slowly exhaled through his nose.

"No, I agree he wouldn't stay in Austin. I'm going to stay around San Antonio for a while, see if I can pick up the scent here. I'll keep you posted."

Snapping the phone shut, Lawrence slid down onto the couch and took another long drag, exhaling after a few moments with a sigh. Before he could take a second drag, the phone rang again. With a curse, Lawrence answered.

"Yes? Oh, it's you." Lawrence listened for a moment, but quickly began to seethe with anger. "No," he broke in. "I have my own methods. I don't need outside help." The other speaker thought otherwise and Lawrence rose from his seat to move to the table where the hotel had so graciously left a pad and pen. "Okay, then. Eight, six, six… Mmhmm… two, nine. Got it. No, I don't want to call her if I can help it. I'll think about it. Goodbye."

Lawrence closed the phone and tossed it onto the table. He looked down at the name and number he had just written. John Winchester. The name did not inspire confidence. He thought about his other possibility for help. She knew the city, and he could trust her. But could he bring himself to see her again? Lawrence stood and crossed to the window, lost in thought. He watched the first full moon through the open window, admiring how much bigger it looked here in Texas, in the wide open sky. He wondered if she were looking at the same moon right now.

* * *

Friday Afternoon 

The tires were just another shade of gray on the road. Yellow lines were dull in the glare of the Arizona sun, and white dashes blurred into a dingy beige as the vintage Impala sped down the empty stretch of highway at 85 mph. Desert stretched out on both sides of the road, cacti and rock formations whipping past too quickly to be admired. The sun reflected off the black hood, while inside the car Dean Winchester tapped his fingers on the wheel in time to Alanis Morissette telling the world what she really wants.

In the backseat, Sam, Dean's younger brother, slept peacefully, completely unaware of his brother's chick-rock. Dean snuck a look at his brother in the rearview mirror as Sam shifted his position. Sam's dark hair was rumpled from the cramped sleeping quarters and the wind coming through the open windows. His features, usually tense, were soft in sleep. He looked almost younger than his twenty-two years. Dark brown eyes were concealed behind closed eyes, and Dean wondered what he was seeing now. With dark blonde hair and light brown eyes, Dean was as different from Sam in appearance as they were different in their views of the world. Dean was built to fight; Sam was built to learn. Dean was muscularly built and had a deep, abiding love of guns and the hunt. Sam was meant for academia. His love of knowledge, and normalcy, gave him the air of a scholar. Sam's "Giles" appearance was also enhanced by his mourning for Jessica, his fiance, who had been killed while Sam was helping Dean on a hunt. His guilt over her death haunted him every day, and gave him nightmares so intense they scared the hell out of Dean (even though Sam had never revealed what the nightmares actually revealed).

Dean's eyes softened with brotherly affection and a little relief. The nightmares had been really bad for a while, but Sam had actually been sleeping peacefully for a while now. The bad dreams only seemed to come once or twice a month now. Every few months, though, Sam would have an entire week of the nightmare, but on the whole, his sleep had improved. Sams obsession with finding Jessicas killer had convinced him to come along with Dean, sure that she had been killed by something supernatural. He was nowhere near being over her death, or loving her.

Love like that confused Dean. He didn't understand such devotion to a lover. Relationships, friendly or otherwise, had always been more of a hassle than they seemed worth. It was too easy for someone, or something, to hurt you as it was. Someone you cared for was an even bigger liability. Better by far to lone wolf life, and just find a companion for the evening, kicking ass as you go along. Sam's pain wasn't something Dean looked forward to experiencing. His own dreams had been recently infiltrated by a recurring dream that he wasn't sure he wanted to share with Sam.

Dean had been dreaming about a girl. Not just a girl, the girl from the factory.

"Annie!" Dean screams at the darkness before him.

Finally reaching a large open cavern, the brothers stop. Candles and lamps light the open space, and a huge thing lies on the ground bleeding. Panicked, the two men split up to search the cave.

"Dean!"

Dean runs over to his brother who is kneeling over the girl half buried in rock.

"No!" Dean falls to his knees and Sam backs away. The girl's eyes are closed, her coffee colored hair gray from the dust. Scrapes and bruises on her cheeks and shoulders show the signs of a fight before being nearly buried alive. As Dean sits there, his heart in his throat, her eyes fly open and she gasps.

Pain and fear shine through ocean blue eyes. Dean feels the tears flow down his cheek in relief. She's not dead, and he can breathe again.

"Dean," she whispers.

That was the point at which Dean had always woken up. He couldn't bring himself to talk about the dream with Sam. It seemed personal somehow. As though the girl was waiting for him. Dean didn't like the unsettling feeling of caring for someone the way he felt in the dream.

Approaching the state line, heading away from the sun as it descended slowly behind them, Dean did a quick mental calculation to estimate their arrival time at the Texas state line. Neither Dean nor Sam was overly fond of the huge state, but the trail pointed to Texas and the boys both felt their dad wasn't too far ahead. Their father had disappeared. Neither Winchester could figure it out. John Winchester had been there one day, working on a hunt, easy to find, and then he as gone. Neither son knew where to find the father, and now they both hunted him the way they would a case, desperate - each in his own way - to discover what had happened to their dad.

In the passenger seat of the Mustang sat a weathered and beaten journal, the summation of John Winchester's experience and knowledge. Glancing down at the journal, Dean could feel tears threatening. He tore his gaze away and gave his full attention to the road. Anger welled up inside him, dropping his stomach. Everything Dean wanted to ask his dad, every question, every accusation, everything he had been feeling for the past nine months, raced through his head. Why? What was going on? Where is he? Why disappear? Why not take his sons along? Why not take at least Dean? What could be more important than his family?

Sam shifted in the backseat, waking. Taking a deep breath, Dean quickly cleared all the anger from his thoughts. He didn't want to inadvertently take his frustrations out on his brother. They both had enough issues to work through on their own without adding each man's bitterness toward their father.

"Good morning!" Dean smiled in the mirror at his brother. Sam sat up groggily, looking a little lost. Yawning, he looked around before climbing clumsily over the seat to sit up front with Dean.

"Where are we?" he yawned, pulling their father's journal from under his butt and turning to set it gently onto the backseat.

" Arizona for the next hour. We just passed Bowie. I'm gonna try to get to Las Cruces before we switch off."

Sam blinked the sleep from his eyes and yawned once more, stretching as much as he could in the confines of the car. Dean smiled to himself, glancing over at his brother.

"You should get some more sleep. It'll be another three or four hours at least."

"Nah," Sam shook his head. Bending over he pulled his laptop up from its home on the floorboard. "I'm gonna check my email. Who knows? Maybe Dad finally decided to drop us a note."

The brothers both gave a wry chuckle tinged with bitterness.

"I wouldn't count on it," Dean replied as Sam logged in.

For a while the clicking of keys on the computer and the strains of Alanis on repeat mixed with the sounds of the desert wind into the sounds of normalcy for the Winchester boys. Slowly, Sam stopped typing and looked over at the radio.

"What are we listening to?"

"Shut up," Dean replied. "There was nothing but country and Tejano on the radio." A guilty glance betrayed him. Sam fought not to laugh out loud at his brother's overly defensive answer.

"If you say so." Sam returned to his emails. Scrolling through the offers for penis enlargements and the date of his dreams, deleting as he went, Sam quickly pared down his sixty-something emails to only nine. Going from the oldest to the newest, taking those from his friends first, Sam read one from his friend Becky. Sam smiled as her letter took him back to his campus life.

//Sender: Becky  
Re: I hate math.

Sam,

I hate this new math class. I know it's a requirement, but I am never going to need this! What do I need the square of a hypotenuse for? It's like I've fallen into a bad version of the Modern Major General's number!

No joke! That's what we spent all last week working on. I just want to pass this class and never look at another calculator again. I have never been so bored in a class before.

Anyway, we all miss you. Don't stay away too long.

Becky

PS. Zack asked me to pass on another thank you. Seriously, we can never thank you enough for everything you did to help him. He's not completely back to his old self, but he's getting there. We miss you. Come back to visit soon. Alone.//

Several months before, Becky's brother, one of Sam's oldest friends from school, had been arrested for killing his girlfriend. The case against him had been strong, and damning. A videotape of him entering the house moments before her death, and the police had found him with the body of his girlfriend, covered in her blood. Becky had written to Sam with all the details, and Sam and Dean had gone (at Sam's insistence) to find out what they could. Upon arriving Dean almost immediately managed to piss off Becky. The brothers also found the real killer, a shape shifter, who took Dean's shape and tried to kill Becky. Fortunately the police arrived in time to stop fake-Dean, thanks to an anonymous tip from Sam and Dean.

The strangest part in this ordeal, apart from watching Dean shoot himself when he killed the shape shifter, was the pity Sam had felt for the poor creature. This guy was somehow born with an amazing natural ability, but it also deformed his. As a result of his imperfections, he had been shunned by everyone, even his parents, and had begun taking bodies in an attempt to find love as someone else. When the woman didn't fall for it, or found his behavior disgusting, he would kill her, taking his frustration and anger out on the latest person to refuse him. Sam couldn't help feeling that Dean's refusal to make human connections, to push everyone away, made the two of them more like this poor, unloved creature than Sam cared to think about. For years, growing up, he had felt like he would never get to be normal or happy. Sam had always been afraid that he would never know what it was like to have friends or fall in love because his dad and Dean were so gung ho about the hunting business.

Another problem had been uncovered in realizing that Dean had his own issues with Sam. Sam had always known that Dean had issues with him going away to college and leaving the family business, but he had never known that Dean secretly would have liked to get to go away too. Through the shape shifter dipping into Dean's psyche, Sam realized that he and his brother had more to talk about than just finding their dad. He also knew that neither of them would bring up the subject first. Since this realization, though, Sam had come to be truly grateful that Dean harbored no resentment toward him, and still trusted him enough to bring him hunting. Once they found John Winchester, though, the three of them would have a lot to discuss.

Scrolling down a little farther, Sam reread the post-postscript, and laughed.

"What?" Dean looked over at his brother.

"An email from Becky."

"Oh yeah?" Dean returned his attention to the road. "What's she say?"

"Well, Zack's doing better," Sam paused with a smile.

"And that's funny?"

"No," Sam laughed. "Becky asked me to tell you hi."

Dean raised his eyebrows and smiled a little. "That's nice." Dean wouldn't have minded spending a couple of nights with Sam's friend, but her dislike of his masquerading as a cop had not gotten the two of them off on the right foot.

"Yeah," Sam continued. "She also asked me to let you know that even though you're 'dead,' you still owe her a new coffee table and carpet."

Sam laughed at his brother's wince and sigh. He replied to Becky's email, letting her know that he was doing alright. He looked at the subject lines from on a couple others before one caught his attention. Eyes wide he stared at it for a moment.

//Sender: A.F. MacKeary  
Re: A message from your father.//

Sam opened the message. Three lines into it, his jaw dropped. Two lines later he felt dizzy.

"Holy shit," he whispered, staring almost unseeing at the words on the screen.

Dean looked over and did a double take.

"You okay, Sam? What is it?"

Sam couldn't answer. He looked slowly up at Dean and then back at the screen, reading the same lines without fully grasping what they said. Dean, alarmed by his brother's behavior, pulled over to the side of the road and turned to face him.

"Sam, c'mon! What is it? What's happened?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam answered slowly, voice shaking.

"It's a letter from someone in San Antonio. They-" Sam stopped and swallowed, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves. Closing his eyes he took one last deep breath before opening them and beginning to read aloud.

//Sender: A.F. MacKeary  
Re: A Message from your father.

Mr. and Mr. Winchester,

My name is A.F. MacKeary. Our fathers were once friends. I speak of their friendship in the past tense, because my father was killed nearly eight months ago on a hunt with your father. I am writing to you both now, because I think the time for us to formally meet has come. Also, I have a package for each of you from your father.//

"What's with this guy? Who talks like that? " Dean leaned forward to look on as Sam continued reading.

//I am fully aware that the two of you have been searching for John since his "disappearance" almost nine months ago. In addition to my own work, I have been monitoring his voice mail at his request, taking care of any non-emergency situations. His own investigation, it seems, has become all-consuming.

E-Mail is far too impersonal to say everything I wish, and you both move around too frequently for any post to reach you in time. Please come to my home. You can spend a few days in comfort and relax. We have much to discuss. Come quickly, though. I am afraid that if this message does not reach you before Friday, he will be gone- assuming he stays the full week he plans on. I know you both want to see him.

I hope to see you soon, Sam and Dean.

A.F. MacKeary//

Both brothers stared at the screen for a long moment after Sam had finished reading.

"I don't believe this," Dean said softly. "Can we really believe this?"

"I don't know," Sam answered. "But according to this, Dad's in San Antonio." Pausing to look out the window, Sam thought for a moment. "When is Friday?"

Dean leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, laying his head back on the headrest and exhaling a deep sigh.

"Today." His voice was deep with emotion, and Sam nodded his head in understanding. Looking down at the message again, Sam opened the attachment.

"Well, here's the address and directions."

Dean looked over at the computer and leaned forward on the steering wheel, gazing out the windshield across the desert.

"Okay."

Dean put the car into gear, and pulled out onto the highway, quickly regaining his speed. As he put Arizona behind him, Dean felt very awake and ready to drive, ready for a midnight marathon to San Antonio.


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday Evening**

Dean and Sam looked up the lawn to admire the beauty of the house. It was one of those old homes with large windows and porches everywhere. An old-fashioned driveway led through the first level of the home to a courtyard in back. The house was nestled into a neighborhood of large homes, but hidden away in the heart of the city, right off I10, surrounded by graffittied buildings and flanked by a drainage ditch. The house was obviously cared for, and the lawn was neat, but not manicured. The house had the feeling of a home, which appealed to Sam. The boys exited the car and entered the fenced yard along the sidewalk that led to the front porch. As they climbed the porch steps, the sound of the Animals relating their tale of woe in New Orleans blasted from an open window. Dean and Sam exchanged a look, amused.

"Hey Dean," Sam reached out to stop his brother from ringing the bell. "That letter said he hoped to become reacquainted with us. Have we been here before?"

Dean racked his brain, but had no memory of ever meeting this guy. Shaking his head, he replied, "I don't think so. Dad and I came down here a couple times when I first started helping out, but I don't remember ever coming here." Sam frowned at this and nodded for Dean to ring the bell.

The music lowered and nothing happened for a moment, so Dean rang again. A call to wait came through the door, and the men both stepped back. A bolt turned, and the door swung open to reveal a young woman. Dean stared with disbelief at the girl from the factory. She had her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and wide sapphire eyes that shone with the smile that spread across her face.

_The girl from my dream._

Sam looked at his brother and smiled, before saying hello and reaching his hand out to shake hands.

"Hi, we're the Winchesters."

Looking from one brother to the other, she addressed herself to the tallest. "Yes," she laughed. "Hello Sam."

"Yeah," Sam returned, confused. "Is Mr. MacKeary here?"

The girl frowned in confusion. "Mr. MacKeary? No." She looked back and forth between the two men, giving Dean a double take as he continued to stare at her, unable to pull himself together until Sam elbowed him.

"Yeah," he jumped in. "We got a letter from him asking us to come."

The young woman's eyes opened wide as comprehension dawned.

"No, Mr. Winchester. _Mr_. MacKeary is dead." The brothers looked at each other. "I sent you the email." Sam and Dean looked at her, curious. "_I_ am A.F. MacKeary."

"You're A.F.?" Dean asked. The girl nodded. "You know that sounds like a guy?"

She laughed and stepped back to open the doorway to them.

"Would you have come if I had signed the letter 'Anna?' Won't you both come in?"

The men entered the house and found themselves in a foyer, facing a large staircase. Looking around, both Dean and Sam got the feeling they were dealing with old money.

"Anna, huh?" Sam smiled as he turned to face their hostess.

"Yeah. My Dad used to call me by my middle name, Florence. I _hated_ that." She smiled and led the men through a formal sitting parlor and dining room into the kitchen. Tiffany lamps and gold-rimmed china were passed on the way. Dean looked around him admiring the decor, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep from knocking anything over.

"Why'd he call you that?"

"Because I was named for my mother. She died when I was born."

"Sorry to hear that," Sam said gently.

"So was I," Anna replied.

Once in the kitchen, Dean felt more comfortable, faced now with an old wooden table and chairs and the feel of an old-world kitchen. He accepted the proffered beer with a smile and smiled at his brother's polite refusal. Anna opened a soda for herself and led the brothers to the table.

Taking a seat she reached down to the chair beside her, bringing up two packages. Handing one to each brother, Anna leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her soda. Dean and Sam looked from the packages in their hands to Anna, unsure of what to do.

"I fixed up two of the bedrooms for you upstairs. The two doors on the left on the second floor. I figured you'd want some time and privacy to look through whatever that is. When you're ready, supper and I will be down here, waiting."

Dean stared at the package that bore his father's handwriting. Sam looked up across the table to Anna, as though she held the answers to all his questions. She smiled sympathetically, understanding how hard this whole situation must be for the brothers.

"He gave these to you?" Dean's eyes bored through her, jealous that she had seen the man who apparently didn't want to see his own sons.

"No," Anna replied. Dean and Sam both started in surprise.

"But I thought-"

"Nope," She interrupted, leaning back in her chair kicking her feet up on the chair next to her. "In my letter I only said he had left packages, and that his plan was to be here until Friday. I never said he gave them to me personally." Dean leaned back now, frustrated. He narrowed his eyes at the small woman, waiting for an explanation. Anna sighed and dropped her feet to the floor, leaning forward onto the table to explain. "He called me-"

"You spoke to him?" Sam asked eagerly. Anna sighed again and shook her head.

"Again, no. I was in Chicago taking care of one of the 'non-emergencies.' A few nights ago my phone rang with a message from your father on my voicemail. How he managed to leave it without the phone ringing, I don't know. But it _was_ his voice."

"Like the answering service," Sam addressed Dean, who only nodded, waiting for Anna to continue.

"Exactly," she agreed. "He said he was spending a few days here, and that he was leaving on Friday. That was on Wednesday. I emailed you both right away." Anna smiled, and looked over at Sam. "It took me nearly three hours to find your address."

Sam looked down at his package. "Nobody has actually seen him in over eight months."

Anna's smile fell away and she looked down at the can in her hand. "Your father disappeared the same time mine died." Looking up she met the eyes of one brother, then the next. "The only difference is yours keeps calling. Mine just came home in a box. Frankly," her voice became tight with anger and emotion. "We're all getting screwed. Whatever the two of them were up to, it blew up in their faces. Now the three of us are running around like fools trying to fix something we know nothing about." Anna stood and crossed the kitchen. Sam watched her progress across the room, and Dean simply stared out the window where she had been sitting, watching the wind in the trees. Anna stared out the window over the sink as she began to speak again.

"Go rest up. I have an offer for the two of you when you come back down."

Dean turned around, watching her back. Suddenly, he stood and strode out of the room. Sam followed, glancing at Anna as he crossed the kitchen. She made no movement, and he left to follow Dean up the staircase to the bedrooms.

At the top of the stairs, Dean opened the first bedroom door. A navy blue room, masculine yet soft, greeted the brothers. Exchanging a look and a smile with Sam, Dean stepped back to let his younger brother enter. They both walked toward the open door that revealed a bathroom. An old fashioned tub with claw feet and a decadent shower head high enough to accommodate even Sam's height greeted them. Elegant shades of cream and dark blues gave the bathroom an open feel, giving the illusion of space.

The next bedroom had slate walls and blood red accents. The room was obviously a man's room. Dean walked over to the bed and looked at the lone photo on the end table. Anna and a taller man, about her own age, smiled and hugged each other in graduation robes. Dean raised an eyebrow and set the photo back on the nightstand. Sitting down on the bed, Dean held up the package, examining his father's scrawl. This was the closest he had been to his father in almost a year. Jaw clenched, Dena took a deep breath and opened the package. Sam sat in an armchair near the door and opened his own package. Each package contained a small leather journal, a ring and a letter.

Sam flipped through the blank journal and set it aside. The thick band, solid silver, was etched with a deep design. The markings looked like runic writing, but Sam was never any good at reading runes.

"Dean." Sam walked over to his brother. "Is yours like this?"

Dean took his brother's ring and held the two side by side. Sam's had what looked like Norse ruins, but Dean's had strange lines drawn through another line that encircled the band. He shrugged, gave back his brother's ring, and looked at his own for another minute. Sam, in the meantime, returned to his chair and opened the letter from his father. Unfolding the paper, Sam nearly swore, shaking his head at how short the letter actually was.

_Sam,_

_I know you and I never managed to say what we really wanted to say. I'm writing now, and I still can't make the words say all that I want._

_The runes on your ring are a prayer for your protection. It says _"An t-anam-s' air do laimh," _which means _"Be this soul on Thine arm." _This is a gift from an old friend, Geoffrey MacKeary. It will protect you._

_You are my son. You follow your own path, and you never gave up your own dreams to follow mine. Stay strong._

_Dad_

Sam frowned, a range of emotions rushing through him. He was angry that his father couldn't just say what he wanted to hear, but Sam also understood the problem. He had never been able to communicate with his dad. They neither of them knew how to talk to the other. The band said more to Sam than eighteen years had ever managed. A simple prayer for protection and guidance was all.

Dean, on the other side of the room, was looking at his letter – a considerably longer letter – and turning the ring slowly between his fingers like a worry stone. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he read.

_Dean,_

_You're probably really angry. I don't blame you. There are no words to express how much I regret leaving you in the dark like this, and you can believe me, Missouri is not happy with me about leaving you both behind. I'm sorry to say there's no end in sight at the moment. This is something I have to do. I can only hope that you and Sam continue in your efforts together, being the men (and the brothers) I know you both to be._

_Leaving you behind was a hard thing to do, and I am sorry that I have no way to make you understand. That can't be helped. I have lost Geoff, one of my oldest friends. I couldn't have borne to lose you as well. This is the only way I can keep you safe._

_I don't want you to live your life as you have seen me live it Dean. You've seen me alone, spurning friendships or having only occasional friends – and those I only spoke to on rare occasions. Even Geoff I kept at arm's length out of fear. I raised you as best I could, but there are some areas I have failed you. Don't fear love. Don't fear family. There will never be anything greater or more important in your life than your family. Whether it's those people related by blood, or those you choose to keep with you._

_Sam ignored a lot of what I tried to teach you both, and somehow he learned the one thing I never passed on – the ability to love. I want that for you, Dean. I don't want you to turn away from your heart because I never pushed you to allow yourself to care._

_You and I have lived our lives as fighters, warriors, and you are one of the best men I know. There is a phrase from the Norse warrior's creed that says "_Love and care for your family always, and have the fierceness of a wolf in their protection._" You are the wolf, Dean. No one has ever so aptly met this description. Your ring has been engraved with Ogham ruins that say "As I hold my honor by fang and claw." This is your truth, Dean. Like it or not, you have always been willing to die for those you take into your heart. Let more than just Sam and me in._

_Geoff was good enough to have an old ring from his family's collection engraved with this phrase for me some time ago. I give it to you now, after trying to find the right moment to say all this to you for nearly four years now._

_Anna is Geoff's daughter. I don't think you remember Geoff, but you did meet him, and his daughter Anna, when you were a teenager. She saved your life, and you can trust her now. The MacKeary's are the best resource for information on the occult and the supernatural. She will be invaluable to you._

_I hope you stay safe, and I hope my gift can help you. Let Anna into your heart. She has no family left, and she needs a purpose. She hunts alone, but you have Sam. Protect her as I couldn't protect her father, Dean. Don't let her hunt alone anymore._

_I hate forcing you to be strong for everyone. I hope I will be through with this and with you again soon. When the time is right, you will find me._

_Dad_

Dean dropped the hand holding the letter, brought the ring up to eye level. Staring at the strange writing across the surface of the band, Dean lifted his chin and took a deep breath, willing his thoughts to collect.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Anna had a simple dinner cooking on the stove and a glass of Pinot Grigio growing warm in her hand. She sat at the table and stared unseeing out the window across the yard, her feet propped up the chair next to her. She absently sipped her wine and was distracted by the glint of light off the small gauntlet on her right wrist. Her father had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday, and she was rarely without it. Immersed in their warrior history, despite his own librarian inclinations, Geoffrey MacKeary had inscribed the inside of the gauntlet with a warrior's saying, _'Se' misneach arm fir misniu'il.'_ Setting her wine down, Anna shook her head as she traced one finger along the intricate knot work and shield pattern.

"A brave man's weapon is his heart."

"Personally, I prefer a big gun."

Anna started and spun around, nearly falling out of her chair. Dean smiled an apology and she laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What's that?" Dean pointed at her gauntlet.

Setting her wine down, Anna pulled her sleeve back down over the bracelet. "Some girls get a car when they turn sixteen. I get protective gear. Tradition, apparently." She nodded at Dean's hand. "He gave them to you, then?"

Dean nodded and crossed the floor to steal a swig of Anna's wine, grimacing at the taste. She laughed and went to the fridge to get him a beer.

"Thanks," he said after washing the taste away with Shiner. "I never was one for wine."

Anna smiled shyly and went to stir the spaghetti sauce on the stove.

"Where's Sam?"

"Washing the road off. I went first."

"I figured you would both need some time." Anna glanced back and shot Dean a smile. He noticed, not for the first time, that she had a strong but feminine profile. He was reminded of a Greek statue- one of those dancing maidens.

"So," Dean sat at the table, addressing her back as she seasoned the sauce. "Can that thing stop bullets?"

Anna laughed. "I'm a librarian, not Wonder Woman."

"So, more Batman then," he replied.

"Batman?" Anna turned to face Dean, and tilted her head, smiling. " Nah. I'm more the Lex Luthor type."

"Bald turns you on?" Dean smiled and took a pull on the beer.

"Not really. I like the complex masculine type." Anna turned, still smiling, to the stove, taking the sauce off the fire. "You know, the lone wolf." Dean froze at her words as Anna took the boiling pasta to drain the water at the sink. Steam rose around her, and Dean got another good view of her profile as the setting sun played around her in the steam and off her hair. He suddenly understood some of what his father had been trying to tell him. Anna shot him a grin as she stepped away from the sink, and Dean nearly dropped his beer.

"Smells good."

Dean and Anna both turned to greet Sam. She continued to prepare the dinner and invited Sam to help himself to a beer. Grabbing a Shiner Sam joined Dean at the table. Taking a swig he noticed Dean trying very hard to look normal.

Sam whispered, "You okay, Dean?" His brother nodded and turned to face him.

"Dad told me to look after her. She hunts alone. What do you think we should do about her?"

Sam peered at his brother suspiciously. He had no clue what Dean was talking about. It sounded as though he wanted to take Anna with them. Sam was fairly certain that unless their dad had ordred something like that, Dean would never agree to take her along. Not unless something else was going on. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking, as he watched Dean watching Anna.

"You want to take her with us?" Sam ventured, gauging Dean's reaction.

"That what I-"

"Dinner's ready," Anna called out. "You can hold off talking about me until after we eat." She smiled broadly and set a large platter down on the table. Sam and Dean shot each other a look. "The hushed tones."

The brothers laughed and rose to help her finish setting the table. In a matter of minutes, they all three sat down to the first home-cooked meal any of them had really had in nearly a year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Saturday Night**

Anna watched the steam rise in the glow of candlelight, letting the heat of the bathwater release the tension from her body. The day had been rough on everyone. Anna had been amazed at the way Dean had changed and not changed. He wouldn't have remembered her if not for the factory, that much had been clear. But she had not really expected any different. Men like John and Dean never really remembered the average girl, only the stunning beauties. Smiling, Anna adjusted her position to sit up, breathing deeply the scent of clean water.

Chicago had been a nightmare, and the emotional rollercoaster upon her return had rubbed her nerves raw. In Chicago she had been forced to squat alongside the homeless and in crack houses to find Jillian, the spirit of a young girl who had taken to poltergeist activity to revenge herself on pimps and Johns. Releasing the poor spirit had been the easy part. Dodging the men in the slums had been a different issue entirely. Anna still had bruises on her upper arms and probably her back from fending them off. Still, she had walked away from each encounter; the men had limped.

Dean and Sam were another matter. Dinner had been fun, the men entertaining. She had not been quite up to the challenge of entertaining, but they made it so easy to laugh and smile that Anna had been grateful for their company. Food always tastes better when the heart is light. After dinner, though, the serious discussion had begun. Sam and Dean had so many questions and Anna so few answers.

"So," Dean began without so much as a segue. "How did you know we were looking for our father?"

Anna dropped the plate in her hand which shattered and sent ceramic and pasta scattering. She had been loading the dishwasher with Sam but she immediately bent down with a rag to scoop up the pieces. She swallowed and took a deep breath, replying without ever looking up.

"I've heard the messages you left your father."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, but Sam looked confused.

"We haven't left any messages," He said, leaning back against the counter to stay out of Anna's way.

"Not you, Sam," she softly returned.

Sam turned to his brother, surprised. "You left Dad messages?"

Dean rubbed his hand across his jaw and sighed. Standing he walked over and lowered the trashcan to Anna.

"You listened to my messages?"

She looked up into his eyes and her heart spun at the pain she saw. She had realized early on that he would feel violated that she had heard what John had probably never listened to- words that had not been meant for her ears. She dropped the rag full of shards and food into the trash and sat back on her feet, dirty rag and hands resting on her knees.

"I listened for the messages that people left. Many people contact your father with questions or needing help, but only the desperate ones call you. I handle all the rest." Sam joined Anna and his brother on the floor, and even Dean sat, pushing the trashcan away. "I heard your messages, but I had no way to contact your father, to make him listen. I don't think he actually has a phone with him."

"How did he call you then?" Sam broke in. Anna shrugged.

"He probably used the phone here at the house. He's had a key since I can remember."

"When did we meet before?" Dean apparently had no concept of easing into questions. Anna smiled and crossed her legs, getting more comfortable.

"About eight years ago. You were about sixteen, I think, and helping your dad out on a hunt. My dad met up with you both down in the park to take care of some sort of wood haunting." Anna bit her lip, trying to remember the exact circumstances. Dean smiled to himself and nodded.

"I remember that. Some homeless guy nearly knocked me cold. A kid came running up and scared him off with a gun."

"It wasn't a homeless guy," Anna broke in. "You, my friend, managed to get attacked by whatever it was our dads were hunting." She turned to Sam. "I showed up with a book for my dad, and I stumble across him laying flat on his back with a gash across his chest. This huge… thing is standing over him, ready to strike again. So, I grabbed _his_ gun," Anna indicated Dean who cleared his throat and looked down at Sam's laugh. "I shot the thing a few times, and it ran off away from us."

"Yeah," Dean joined in. "Then she stayed with me, talking and trying to keep me from bleeding to death. I remember you now. You were tiny."

"And you were goofy looking."

Sam laughed along with Anna at Dean. He remembered his brother coming home from that trip. Dean had been very weak and covered in bandages.

"I remember you got very sick," she said quietly. "Dad and John took off for parts unknown to find this thing, and left me alone to care for you for about a week. I was so scared, I had no idea what to do. You had a fever that wouldn't break, and I read through about six medical journals trying to figure out how best to help you."

"well," Dean smiled. "You did something right, 'cause I made it home alive."

"Yeah, home alive," Sam broke in. "Home where I stayed with you for two weeks because Dad took off again and there was no one else to keep you down until you'd healed."

Dean smirked and looked over to Anna. "Can you believe this guy? Anyone else would be talking about how cool it was to miss two weeks of school."

Anna smiled at the brothers, and felt the familiar pang of loneliness. She had no siblings nearby, and now no father. Dean saw melancholy in her eyes, and moved ahead with his questions to distract her.

"In the email, you mentioned work of your own in addition to helping our dad. What do you do?"

Anna blinked and focused her eyes on Dean, then Sam.

"The MacKeary's have a tradition as chroniclers. We gather the information collected by hunters and catalogue it for future use. I have recently become immersed in an inventory of our warehouse here in Texas."

"You have a warehouse of information?" Sam asked.

"Yes and no," Anna replied. "The original journals are carefully stored after the information has been transferred to the database, but we also store artifacts and various mementos. Unfortunately, since my mother died, the warehouse here in Texas has been filled, but very little has been appropriately catalogued."

"So," Dean cut in. "You're kind of like a librarian of the supernatural?"

Anna looked to the ceiling, rolling the phrase around in her head. "I suppose so, though I do go on my share of hunts."

"Alone?" Dean leaned forward, and Sam watched the exchange.

Anna lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow. Standing, she stepped over the brothers and returned the trashcan to its home before turning to the sink to rinse out the rag.

"Annie." Dean said her name so softly that Sam could barely hear, but Anna stiffened and turned to face Dean, jaw clenched.

"I'm not a kid, Dean. I can cross the street alone, you know, and go to the mall all by myself."

"You can't hunt alone," Dean returned. Anna's eyes narrowed in anger and her she inhaled, mouth opened to speak, but she stopped. Apparently changing her mind about what she had been about to say, Anna instead leaned back against the counter and exhaled, defeated.

"You're right. That's what I wanted to talk to you both about. You two are looking for John, and I would very much like to know what the hell happened to my father." Raising her eyes from the floor, Anna's gaze locked onto Dean. "I suggest that we team up and keep looking together." Anna looked from one brother to the other, waiting for one of them to argue.

"Fine," Sam finally said. "Sounds like a plan."

Dean nodded his agreement and Anna gave a blank stare as her brain wrapped itself around their acceptance.

"Good then," she said quickly. "I'll check a few of my contacts and we can figure out our next move from there." Anna headed toward the door.

"One thing, though," Dean stopped her. Anna turned back and raised her brows in curiosity. "No caves."

Anna and Sam both looked at Dean as though he had just broken into Farsi. Anna grunted a "Huh?"

"You don't go into caves. Ever. That's the rule, take it or leave it."

Anna breathed deep, and exhaled slowly. A look of pure confusion knotted her brow, but she nodded her consent.

"Done, then," Dean exclaimed.

The conversation had ended there, and Sam had offered to enlist Dean's help to finish cleaning the kitchen. Anna had accepted the offer and gone upstairs to take a bath and let her thoughts clear. The muscles under her eye had twitched repeatedly as her thoughts had spun out of control. Now, as she rolled her shoulders back, Anna leaned back again in the tub and kicked her feet up on the edge of the tub, breathing deeply and releasing her inner tumult with a long sigh. Her eye had stilled and the heat from the water warmed her, calming her and allowing the music of Anoushka to fill her mind.

On the back porch, Dean and Sam sat on a swing and watched fireflies dancing in the small garden. Each man nursed his own beer, and allowed his thoughts to run.

"Dean."

"Yes?"

"What's going on?" Sam and Dean simultaneously turned their heads to face each other.

"What do you mean?" Dean looked away.

Sam loosed a small sigh and turned his body to face Dean. Dean glanced at his brother, but quickly focused his attention on the sky. Above them, the faint sounds of Indian music floated through the air, mixing with the scent of roses and honeysuckle vines.

"You know, Dean, we haven't really been doing too well with finding Dad. Maybe she _can_ help us."

Dean rolled his eyes and took a drink.

"There is one thing I want to know," Sam continued. "Why do you want to take her along, when you've always done everything in your power to keep people at arm's length?"

"I don't keep people at arm's length," Dean responded, defensively. Hearing Sam repeat his father was like salt in an open wound. "You're here with me."

"Come on, man," Sam replied, annoyed. "You know what I'm talking about."

Dean sighed, wrapped both hands around the bottle and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"She knows Dad. She knows this life. Annie has a better grasp of what's going on than either of us. Maybe her dad told her more than Dad has told us."

Sam threw his head back and stretched out his neck. "You're full of it."

Dean chuckled and swallowed another swig of beer.

"Maybe," he replied. "But I'll bet you twenty bucks she knows more than she's letting on." They sat quietly for a few minutes before Dean spoke up. "I wonder just how her mother died."

Sam turned a sharp look on Dean. "Why?"

Dean shrugged. "Morbid curiosity."

"She burned to death."

Sam and Dean looked up as Anna came out on the porch. Her hair was wet and hung in long coils down her shoulders over the towel wrapped around her neck. She was wearing a hoodie and men's boxers, rubbing her hair dry with the towel in one hand, a Shiner held in the other. Sam was reminded of Jessica, and Dean thought he'd never seen any girl look so cute. Embarrassed by the thought, he looked away and took another swallow of his beer.

"Excuse me?" Sam was sure he hadn't heard Anna correctly. She pulled the towel from her neck and hung it on the porch railing, plopping down with a leg pulled up under her into a large, wide rocking chair.

"I said she burned to death. Our old house in the country caught fire when I was only a couple weeks old."

"You don't sound too upset about it," Dean said, his voice deep.

"I've tried to be," Anna replied. "She was my mother, and she died in a horrible way. But I can't. I didn't know her. Dad being gone hurts like…" she shook her head and Sam smiled to her. "I know I missed out, having no mom. But I can't grieve the way I probably should."

"I know what you mean," Sam said. Anna smiled, and Dean leaned back on the swing, stretching his legs out before him. He drank deeply, keeping his eyes determinedly on the yard.

"I believe you do, both of you."

"Speak for yourselves," Dean bit out. "Tell us what happened."

Anna looked at Sam who shrugged an apology. With a sad smile, she set her beer on the railing beside her and crossed her legs beneath her.

"I'm afraid I can't." Anna raised hand to halt Dean speaking. "That's part of why I've been cataloging the warehouse. I wanted to find the family journals – my father's, my uncle's, anyone's. Anything that could tell me what happened. All I know is that my dad had to pull me out of there in a hurry. He never talked about it with me, and the family won't talk either. Now they're all either back on the Continent or dead, and nobody's talking."

"When was this?" Dean killed off his drink as Anna replied.

"Nineteen-eighty. The second of November." Dean and Sam exchanged a look, and Anna frowned. "What? What did I say?"

"This is freaky, man," Dean muttered to Sam.

"I know," he replied. Sam looked over at Anna who was on the edge of her seat, leaning toward them.

"What is it?"

"That just sounds eerily familiar," Sam started. He took a breath to speak again, but was unsure what exactly to say.

"Well, John told me how your mother died. Is that what you mean?"

Dean stood quickly and walked back into the house. Sam and Anna sat silently, staring at the door. A second later, the sound of a door slamming somewhere in the house reached them on the porch. Anna looked over to Sam with a hurt look.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked. Sam just shook his head and looked back toward the door.

"I don't know."

Anna watched Sam, reading confusion in his expression.

"Want another drink?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Sunday Morning**

Sam woke with a killer hangover. He had left Dean to himself when he and Anna had finally gone upstairs to sleep the previous night. They had stayed on the porch after Dean had stormed off swapping hunting stories and laughing over dorm life, the whole time downing homemade margaritas and devolving to shots of tequila. Sam had been surprised to discover that Anna had a bachelor's in Library Science, World Religions and a Master's in Theology.

"You can't be much older than me," Sam had managed between coughs of revulsion. He had always hated the taste of tequila.

"No," Anna had replied through the slice of lemon in her teeth. "Not much. I'm only one year younger than your brother." Anna had paused at this point and swayed a little in her chair as she held up one hand as though counting on her fingers. "Didn't we go over that already? That was when my mom died."

"Oh, yeah," Sam rejoined. "I remember, now. Burning mom. That's how-" Sam hiccupped in a terribly cliché way, which sent him and Anna into a fit of laughter that lasted a few moments. "That's how," he began again, trying to catch his breath as Anna wiped tears from her eyes. "That's how my fiancée died. She burst into flames."

Anna's eyes opened wide in drunken shock. "No."

"Yes," Sam slurred, nodding his head. "On the ceiling," he said into his shot of tequila. Anna gasped.

"Weird." She shook her head and refilled her glass.

Sam was definitely paying for the night's drunken release. However, even through the spinning headache and nausea, he felt lighter than he had in months. He had finally been able to talk with someone who understood, who needed no explanation. Dean was great, and an amazing brother, but there were things they just couldn't talk about. Dean was so afraid to let his guard down that Sam couldn't get past his defenses to really talk sometimes. Dean loved him, he knew, and would have done anything to protect him, but Dean had no concept of how to communicate with Sam. He was a lot like Dad in that respect. Anna was open, and willing to talk, but Sam sensed a loneliness in her that reminded him of Dean. They both seemed so afraid of letting anyone get close. In Anna's case it was so bad that she had needed four margaritas and half a bottle of tequila to really open up, and even then she had been guarded. True, Sam couldn't remember too much past the third margarita clearly, but he remembered bits and pieces.

Sam made his way slowly across the blue bedroom into the bathroom. As he swung the door open he was greeted by an uncharacteristically awake Dean.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Dean gave his brother a once over before continuing. "AA says hello!."

Sam gave a sarcastic smile before stumbling toward the sink, holding the edge of the tub for support as he walked. Dean reached over and turned the water on for his brother and held a towel up for him once Sam had washed his face.

"Who knew," Sam said as he rubbed his face dry. "That such a small woman could hold so much liquor."

Dean smiled broadly at Sam.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Sam sat on the toilet and dropped his head into his hands, willing the room to stay still.

"Yeah," Dean grinned broadly. He knew he wasn't being very sympathetic, but he figured he wouldn't get many opportunities to do this to his brother. "How much did you two drink last night?"

"Well," Sam lifted his head carefully and looked up at Dean. "I stayed with her through a pitcher of margaritas and half a bottle of tequila. Somewhere between the third margarita and the tequila I stopped counting."

Dean whistled through his teeth and handed Sam a glass of water.

"Drink this and take two aspirin. I'll meet you downstairs. We have a job." Sam groaned but took the water from Dean and the bottle of pills from the sink counter.

Dean returned to his room and grabbed the photo and a newspaper off the nightstand before heading down to the kitchen. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the welcome scent of fresh coffee filled his senses. He turned to enter the kitchen, and stopped at the door. Sitting at the table was Anna with one foot up on the seat of her chair and her head resting in her hand. She had the same hoodie and shorts on, and fuzzy elephant slippers. Anna had a death grip on her coffee and her eyes closed. Dean smiled gently and entered the room.

"Good morning." Anna lifted her head slowly, and though the signs of a hangover were evident, her eyes were clear. "I hear you two had quite a night."

"Coffee cups above the machine," Anna mumbled and yawned. "Sugar's in the bowl." Dean tried not to laugh as he crossed to the counter to fix himself a cup. As he looked in the sink, the remains of last nights margaritas and the rinds of close to two dozen lime wedges were covered in a thin layer of salt. Dean inwardly winced.

"You two had one hell of a party," Dean called over his shoulder. A grunt was all he heard in reply. He laughed quietly and shook. He took his cup and joined Anna at the table, setting the picture and paper on the worn wood.

"We have to talk," Dean said after he swallowed the morning's first mouthful of coffee. Anna's eyes moved to the photo and Dean could almost see her physically sober before him.

"Where was that?" she asked.

"Next to my bed. The gray room." Dean never took his eyes from Anna as she lifted her head and sat up. Her eyes moved from the photo to the newspaper, and the picture there completely sobered her. She took a deep drink from her coffee and reached out to the paper. Anna looked it over, skimming through the text and reading the caption twice.

_Lawrence Thibideaux (right) and Bernard Thibideaux (left) of New Orleans helping to evacuate stranded citizens from their flooded homes in the aftermath of Katrina._

"I can't help noticing," Dean said, "that the guy on the right, and the guy in this photo are the same."

Anna looked from one to the other, and then she raised her eyes to meet Dean's. His breath caught, but he gave no outward sign. Instead, he waited for Anna to speak.

"What do you want to know?"

"Who is he?"

Anna tilted her head and set the paper down, taking another sip of coffee.

"It says right there he's Lawrence Thibideaux."

Dean gave a wry look.

"Come on, Annie. I'm not stupid-"

"Why do you call me Annie?" she interrupted. Dean smiled as if to say 'because you hate it.' Anna shook her head and scrunched her mouth to one side in frustration, a look ruined by a sudden yawn.

"Okay then," she said through her yawn. "Lawrence and I were in school at the same time, studying world religions. I had just gotten my first bachelor's when he graduated with his Doctorate."

Dean finished his coffee and stood to prepare another cup. As he poured the aromatic liquid, Sam walked in. Dean held out the cup and Sam took it, drinking it down without moving away while Dean got another mug for himself. When Sam finished he pushed Dean aside to fix himself another cup. Dean smiled and walked back to the table. Nobody spoke until Sam had joined them at the table, when Dean spoke up again.

"Do you have any idea why he'd be calling Dad?"

"Who?" Sam asked. Dean pushed the photo and the paper toward him, letting Sam catch up on his own. Anna took a deep breath, watching the photo move across the table.

"He must need help," she answered tightly.

"Help with what?" Sam broke in. Anna shrugged in a noncommittal way that made Dean upset for some reason he couldn't fathom. Sam yawned and took a swallow from his cup. "Well," Sam continued. "He looks like he can take care of himself, so it must be our kind of business, whatever it is."

Anna and Dean turn in unison to look at Sam, Dean looking like he'd like to kick his brother. Anna simply seemed to be amused.

"Has he contacted you?" she laughed as she turned back to Dean. He nodded an affirmative and she nodded in reply. She went to take another sip of coffee but realized that her cup was empty. She went to the counter, quickly fixed herself a new cup and returned to the table.

"He's coming here to meet us."

Anna nearly spit her coffee out. Choking as she swallowed quickly, she managed to gasp out an astonished "What!"

Dean raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair as Sam reached forward to pat Anna on the back. She got control of herself and slapped Sam's hand away, turning wide eyes on Dean as she grabbed a napkin to clean herself.

"Is there a problem with that?" he drawled.

Anna took a slow breath.

"Does he know that I'm here?" Anna had begun to visibly tremble.

"Does it matter?" Dean eyed her, concern working its way into his expression. Anna exploded.

"Listen up, you little James Spader clone. You- I- and he-" Anna sputtered to a stop as she realized that nothing she was saying made any sense.

"No," she finally said, slouching back in her chair. "It doesn't matter. Let him come."

Anna stood slowly and walked out of the kitchen. Dean and Sam watched her go, and then turned to each other. Before either of them could speak, Anna came back in. She walked to the table, grabbed her coffee and turned away once more to leave. At the door she stopped and spun back to face Dean and Sam.

"Did he mention if Bernard would be coming too?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other and Sam shrugged. Dean gave Sam a "dumb-ass" look and returned to Anna.

"No, he didn't mention a Bernard."

"Bernard from the newspaper?" Sam queried. Anna's eyes shot to Sam.

"Yes," she replied. "His brother." Anna scratched her nose in frustration and pressed the length of her finger under her eye to stop the twitching. "Let me know when he arrives, please."

Dean watched Anna leave a second time. Sam turned to ask a question, but stopped at the look on his brother's face. He watched Dean for a moment, concerned.

"You okay? You look funny."

"Don't I always?" Dean cracked, absently. Sam smiled obligingly, but pressed on.

"Seriously, Dean. What's up?"

Dean looked over at Sam and shook his head, a weak smile on his lips. "I don't know, man." His eyes returned to the doorway. "All I know, is that it was worse last night."

Sam moved around the table and grabbed Dean by the shoulders and forced Dean to meet his eye. "Dean," he said slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Dean looked into his brother's eyes and reached up to place his own hand on Sam's shoulder. Dean closed his eyes, sighed, and hung his head.

"Sammy," he whispered. Fighting tears of frustration, Dean related the recurring nightmare he'd been suffering from. By the he finished, both men sat leaning their elbows on the table and staring into their now cold coffee.

"How long have you been having this dream?" Sam asked in solemn tone. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief that Sam was taking this seriously.

"On and off since I was a teenager. Lately though, almost every night. It's getting worse than waking up to you screaming." Dean and Sam both chuckled dryly. "Now that I've actually met her again, it's freaking me out. Everything I feel in the dream keeps coming up. It makes just talking to her hard."

Sam smiled at his brother and shook his head.

"Sometimes, it's meant to."

Dean raised an eyebrow and grunted in response.

"So," Sam said after a moment of silence, a smile in his voice. "That's why no caves."

Dean punched Sam playfully in the shoulder. "Shut up."

Bernard walked along the streets of downtown San Antonio. People, tourists, milled around the Alamo and along the Riverwalk. He sneered in derision at the poorly dressed sausages wandering around. They were beneath him. Not one of them would make a decent human, let alone a decent meal. The disgust he felt for the tourists here far outstripped anything he had felt on Bourbon Street. At least there the tourists had dressed properly. They had been young and alive. Here all he saw were old, worn out people with their fat children.

Tejano and Mariachi music blared from almost every restaurant and club. Nowhere had he found even one decent jazz singer. Bernard stopped on the corner of Alamo Street and stared in disbelief at the garish orange statue that stood almost two stories high. The plaque said something about a 'Flame of Friendship' as a gift from Mexico. Snorting at pathetic attempt at modern art, Bernard continued down Alamo to the staircase that led down to the Riverwalk. The restaurants and stores were somewhat deserted since the river had been drained of its water. This was apparently an annual tradition in the city.

Above him, in the afternoon sky, Bernard could feel the full moon rising. It called to him, and he wanted to let go right now. But he pulled himself back. No, he could not let go here. There wasn't one person here worth his effort. There was no room here to let himself run free. San Antonio was spread out, but there was nowhere to go. In New Orleans, people lived on top of each other, but there was so much room, so many nooks and dark recesses to hide. The bayou had unlimited space with marshes and deltas to run on. The only thing Texas had over Bernard's beloved home was the wildlife. Texas could support large game in massive quantities. Range hunting was definitely on the agenda.

The faint strains of a Dixieland tune caught Bernard's ear. He followed the sound to a bar situated in the basement of a hotel. The band was live and the food smelled good, and Bernard took a table. The waitress quickly brought him the obligatory water, and he ordered a whisky to wash it down. Looking around him, Bernard knew where he would begin his hunt tonight. Last night he had fought the change, but tonight there would be no holding back, and that was how Bernard preferred things. He had already explored the town, and though the East side had seemed promising, he would hunt downtown tonight. There was a lesser chance of being caught if he could just blend in with the tourist crowd.

Bernard longed for the scents of the French Quarter, but this Riverwalk came close. He would hunt here.

Lawrence stepped out of the cab and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a shaky breath, embarrassed at his nerves. He looked up the length of the house, admiring how it not changed in the last four years. Proceeding slowly up the walk Lawrence tried to banish the shaking that threatened.

He and Anna had not parted on the best of terms. The death of Geoffrey had nearly convinced Lawrence to return, but he had stayed silent, out of pride. Her hurt and anger had been justified, but the secrets had been too numerous on both sides. Neither he nor Anna had shared enough. _Of course_, he thought as he climbed the porch stairs, _she never lied about her feelings._

The door swung open to reveal a man. Lawrence gave a small start, shocked to see someone other than Anna answering the door. The man appraised him, and Lawrence did the same. This man was shorter than Lawrence, probably about six-foot tall, and his light brown eyes peered at Lawrence suspiciously.

"You Thibideaux?" he asked in a surprisingly deep voice.

"Yes," Lawrence responded. "And you are?"

"Dean," he replied, holding his hand out. Lawrence shook Dean's hand, expecting the man to try and crush his hand. That he did not, Lawrence took as a good sign. "We spoke on the phone. Sam, my brother, is in the kitchen. Why don't you join him and I'll… go get… Anna." Dean's voice trailed off as Lawrence looked through him to the staircase behind him. Turning, Dean felt the now almost familiar clench in his gut.

Anna stood at the landing, observing them both. Dean was amazed to see her hair, usually in loose curls, hung straight and sleek. She had changed from the casual clothes she had been wearing into a fashionable skirt and blouse, complete with heels. He clenched his jaw at the knowledge this was all for Thibideaux.

Anna descended the stairs slowly without a single misstep. Obviously she was just as comfortable in stilettos as bare feet. Dean backed away as Anna came off the last step and walked, gliding almost, to Lawrence. They stood, staring into each other's eyes. Neither moved, and Dean felt himself dangerously close to stepping in. Out of nowhere, Anna's hand whipped up, soundly cracking against Lawrence's cheek. He bowed to one side, and Anna let her hand fall back to her side. As Lawrence righted himself, Anna lifted her. Dean looked down at her, astonished.

Lawrence's eyes burned, and Anna narrowed hers, daring him to do something, anything. Hands clenched into fists by his side, Lawrence worked his jaw, making sure Anna hadn't broken anything. After all this time, she still packed one hell of a punch. Behind Anna, Dean stepped forward in a possessive stance, making sure Lawrence knew he had a rival. Anna followed his line of sight and turned to Dean, eyebrow raised. He shrugged his shoulders at her and she smiled at him, amused. Anna felt grateful for his support. Looking back to Lawrence her smile fell away.

"Kitchen," she said, spinning away on one heel, leaving the two men behind her.

Dean turned to Lawrence and flashed an arrogant grin. "Kitchen," he repeated and followed Anna into the back of the house.

Lawrence took a deep breath, closed the front door and walked toward the kitchen, crossing himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sunday Afternoon**

Lawrence entered the kitchen to see Dean and Anna seated at the table with another man. Walking up to table, Dean kicked the fourth chair out toward Lawrence, jerking his eyebrows up. Lawrence grabbed the back of the chair and repositioned it as he sat. Running his fingers through his hair, Lawrence looked over to the second man.

"I'm Lawrence Thibideaux," he stretched his hand out.

"Sam Winchester," he answered, taking Lawrence's hand. "You tried to contact our dad."

"Yes," Lawrence answered, clasping his hands before him on the table. "I was told your father could assist me. I have a small problem, and my superiors don't think I can handle it on my own."

Dean and Sam locked eyes. Dean rolled his eyes at Lawrence's half answer.

"Bernard?" Anna asked. Lawrence met her gaze and nodded.

"Wait," Sam interjected. "Bernard from the newspaper?" Dean shot his brother another "dumb-ass" look.

"Yes," Lawrence repeated. "My brother." He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. "Big brother was always something of a troublemaker," he glanced pointedly at Dean, who cleared his throat and straightened in his seat.

"Lawrence," Anna spoke softly. Their eyes met and Lawrence felt his cheeks burn. "When you and Dean have finished your pissing contest," Dean shot a look at Anna while Sam hid a laugh behind a cough. Anna merely continued "You can tell them anything, Lawrence. Their father and mine went hunting together." She looked up through dark eyelashes at Lawrence. He remembered a time when those eyes had been soft. He remembered a time when she had been soft. For him.

"There's not much to tell," Lawrence said, his voice a little deeper with emotion. Anna's gaze warned him to snap out of it. Clearing his throat, Lawrence continued. "My brother, Bernard, has returned to some of his less savory habits."

Anna sighed. "We'll have our work cut out for us then."


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural, but if I did then Missouri would show up more often than she does. She'll definitely be a big player later on in my series (though perhaps not in this particular story).**

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. I had a major writer's block that was broken only by working on a Quizilla regular that will never be posted until I can un-cliche it. But, it got the juices flowing enough to work past the block, so hopefully the tale can now continue past this boring part to the fun stuff. Yay!**

* * *

Bernard Thibideaux loved all things French. It seemed sacrilege to be in a city that barely knew what a good beignet should be. The entire world, in his opinion, should be as enamored of the French-Creole world he had always known as any native of his fair city. This world of enchiladas, tacos and the lisping Spanish words that sounded vaguely like chickens cackling was a cold and foreign land to him. 

Subtlety meant nothing, and all colors were bold and garish.

Bernard could hardly wait for his adored French Quarter to be once again available to him. However, the Riverwalk would have to do. Downtown San Antonio must be acceptable for a few months more.

A friend still inside the Den's Council had warned him that Lawrence was here in town. They also passed along the name Anna MacKeary. _She _was here, in San Antonio. He wondered if Anna still smelled of summer rain and wildflowers, the sweet smell of innocence that had first attracted both Thibideaux men to her, though she had only ever been made aware of Lawrence's feelings. Now she would hunt him, for Lawrence, for the council. She would again be called in to subdue his animal nature.

The name Winchester had as well been mentioned. John Winchester had become a name among the occult circles of society, and his sons for the past half-year had followed closely, if somewhat bunglingly, in his footsteps. Bernard was unimpressed. They nearly died more often than they legitimately hunted, and had they been working alone he would have been unconcerned. It was Anna's presence that worried him. She had caught him for her father the first time and she could only have improved in the past four years.

Bernard sipped his wine, some generic red the waiter had suggested, and watched a troop of pubescent cheerleaders pass. Bernard sniffed in derision at the uniform beige-ness of the girls. Every one had stick straight hair with honeyed highlights, thickly lined eyes, rose blushed cheeks and glossy lips. Not one stood out as an individual and even the brunettes were highlighted to shades of darker blonde. His sneer deepened at the bleach-blonde chaperone that shot him a sidelong invitation as she corralled some of the girls flirting with a mariachi band. This city sickened him, and the people who came here he found reprehensible.

Let the Den say what they wish, Bernard, for all his faults and deviations, was better than any one of these people.

* * *

Anna and Lawrence discussed strategy, Sam and Anna discussed plans. Dean watched it all with a quiet anger he was afraid to examine. Thibideaux was good, and he knew what he was talking about. They were running out of time. The full moon would be in three days, and before a plan of capture could be discussed, Bernard had to be found. Lawrence was tempted to go to the open fields and woodlands, Sam wanted to go either north south to the lakes, but Anna pushed Downtown. She was convinced he would want as similar a hunting ground as he could find to the Quarter. 

Dean had to admit he sided with Lawrence, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

Anna was close to losing her mind. Nobody had come close to agreeing with anyone else, and she wasn't about to let the Winchesters go wandering off on their own. Lawrence could handle himself, but she was reluctant to let him go off alone as well. Bernard was dangerous on his own, but let the moon rise and he was downright deadly.

"Alright, I'll tell you what," Sam finally said after the fourth hour of staring at a map of San Antonio. "Let's take the lakes out of the picture, since you two know the target and I don't. That leaves the hill country to the northwest and the downtown area."

"Not all of downtown, just the main hub. Probably along the Riverwalk. It's drained right now in preparation of the Mud Festival, so I think we should concentrate on the major tourist events."

"Why?" Lawrence was unconvinced that his brother would expose himself so blatantly. "I just can't see him going there. There'll be too many people and not enough cover."

Anna sighed and threw her empty beer bottle cross the kitchen to sink squarely into the recycling bin.

"Where would you go, Tibbs?"

"Where I could run free," he answered, ignoring the quickening of his pulse. She hadn't called him that in over four years.

"Where do you always go?" she pressed.

"Where I can run free. I like the room."

"But he doesn't." Anna moved her chair closer to Lawrence. "He _always _liked the challenge of hunting in a crowd. He seduces his prey, lures them to a safe-haven and then changes to chow down. Why would he change now?"

Lawrence shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "He doesn't know the city," he said, exasperated.

"But he's had plenty of time to explore the Riverwalk area. He's been missing for how long?"

"Almost four months," Lawrence sighed.

"Right, then." Anna's eyes shone. She could tell that Lawrence was coming around. "Four months for Bernard to explore, smile, watch patterns- to plan. Four months to figure it out. He's ready." Anna watched Lawrence think it through. Sam looked back and forth before catching his brother's eye. The Winchesters felt almost useless, but Dean smiled at Sam. He knew Anna trusted them, and he was positive she would trust their opinions on the hunt, but for right now, she had to convince Lawrence to see things her way.

Dean was unsure what to make of her nickname for Lawrence, but there was a whole history here he knew nothing about. Still, Dean had seen 'Tibbs's' face when she had let the name slip, and Dean had been forced to fight down the jealousy that rose in his stomach. He was also secretly intrigued by the revelation that Lawrence had his own preferences for hunting. Could he be like his brother?

"Okay," Lawrence threw his hands up in resignation. "Bernard hunts downtown. Where is he and how do we find him?"

Anna sighed and leaned back in her seat, staring past Sam out the window. Her eyes slowly moved to the city map on the table.

"The first night of the full moon is in two days. We wait and let him hunt that night. Then we'll know where he's moving."

The men all gasped in shock.

"That means he'll have already killed," Sam exclaimed.

Anna leveled a calm gaze on him, throwing a glance at Lawrence and Dean who both appeared equally unhappy.

"We won't find him otherwise." She stood and stretched. "Besides," Anna continued. "I was hired by the Den to i catch /i Bernard, not save the world." Anna turned and left the kitchen without acknowledging the protests behind her.

Lawrence sat still, quietly mulling over this news. The Den had hired Anna in spite of his presence, and after forcing him to team up with the Winchesters. Either they knew something he didn't, or Anna had contacted them herself. It mattered little, though. Anna would hunt his brother and her treatment of Bernard would be dictated by the Den's wishes. If the Council ordered it, Bernard would die at Anna's hand.

* * *

Sam and Dean entered the 'Blue Room' as they had begun calling Dean's room. Dean lay back on the bed and Sam sank into the armchair by the large windows. Neither brother spoke for a long while, letting the past few hours sink in. Finally, Sam spoke up. 

"What did she mean 'the Den' hired her?"

Dean grunted and sat up. "I don't know. But 'Tibbs' didn't seem too happy about it."

Sam watched his brother, brow furrowed. Dean had been unusually quiet all day. Sam knew Dean was fighting a recurring dream, and he knew his brother was – unusually attracted to Anna. There had been girls Dean was attracted to, had flirted with or dated for a time, but Sam couldn't remember a single girl ever distracting his brother to such a degree.

"Are we really going to just wait around for this guy to kill someone? Shouldn't we be out there trying to find him?" The bedroom door swung open to reveal Lawrence.

"Yes, we should be trying to find him." Dean and Lawrence stared at each other. "Are you two coming with me?"

"What about Anna?" Sam called out.

"I'm ready." Lawrence turned to see Anna. She had changed from her skirt to t-shirt and jeans. The light jacket in her arms would cover the gun she always wore at the small of her back. She moved away toward the stairs. "Come on guys!"

Lawrence let out a relieved breath. Anna wanted to capture Bernard. She wouldn't kill him, regardless of the Den's wishes.

Dean smiled to Sam. Both were as relieved to discover that Anna was unwilling to wait for someone to die as they were to be doing something. Dean had never been one to wait around, and Sam was beginning to discover that he was more like his big brother than he had ever been willing to admit.

Anna opened the kitchen door and made her way across the yard to the garage. Behind her, the men spoke amongst themselves. Plotting her day's work in her mind, Anna opened the trunk of her car and pulled out a small metal case. She climbed in behind the wheel of her Mustang and waited for the men to fold themselves in around her.

"Everybody buckled in?" Anna laughed at the looks the men gave her and started the ignition.


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sam or Dean, but if I did... Well, my yard would be mowed.**

**A/N: This is a bit short, but I'm coming into the home stretch. Also, does anyone read the stuff on FictionPress? I'm thinking about posting a couple of my original stories there and abandoning my posts on Quizilla. Thoughts?**

* * *

Anna stepped off the elevator on the ground level of the parking garage and glared at the horde of teenage cheerleader tourists trying to push past her.

"You can't get in until it's empty, you know," she muttered at the back of a bleached blonde. "Pendeja."

Dean and Sam smiled to each other, trying not to laugh. Lawrence stepped out of the lobby into the muggy San Antonio spring. New Orleans could get hot and muggy, but San Antonio felt like walking into a wall of water. Dean grimaced at the moist air and Anna closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, relishing the weather that made early April a balmy eighty degrees.

"Where do we start?" Sam asked, eyeing a homeless man screaming at a stack of boxes across the street.

"Right here," Anna responded and pulled the metal box from her bag. The men crowded closer as she opened the lid, and anna smiled to herself. Boys and toys.

"These are how we will stay in touch." Inside the box, nestled in shaped foam were half a dozen flesh toned ear-buds. "These are mini-transistors. They are also a higher quality than the communication devices the government uses." Dena shot her an 'Oh, yeah?' look and Anna smiled. "I've used theirs and these. Trust me, these are better. They use a microwave system, not unlike a cell phone, and maintain clear reception up to one hundred feet underground and through over forty feet of rock." Each man reached in to grab an earpiece. Anna grabbed her own, flipped an almost microscopic switch. The men followed suit before placing their receiver in their ear.

"In open air they have a clear signal for up to five miles. Cell phones and radio signals have a minimal effect on the technology. The only real problem I've ever had is volume. They don't have an adjustment, so they tend to be a little loud. I'm working on that, though."

Dean and Sam were impressed. They had no idea Anna was this well equipped for hunting.

"You developed these?" Lawrence asked.

"With Bill, yes. He helped me with the more technical end of things during his last visit. Dad and I just tweaked them a bit as we discovered new problems or thought of something else we wanted the technology to do."

"Who's Bill?" Sam asked from down the street, testing the new gadget. Anna laughed and the group moved to catch up with Sam.

"My brother. He doesn't hunt."

"Why not?" Dean spoke up for the first time. Anna met his gaze before glancing at Sam and smiled, looking away.

"He wanted a normal life with a degree and a job and a wife. He didn't want to worry about his girl getting hurt because of the family business." Anna crossed the street and led the way down to the Riverwalk.

"Okay, here's the deal." Anna's tone changed the mood. "Tibbs, you and Sam will take the Convention Center side, Dean and I will take the mall side. If you see Bernard, be careful. The Den couldn't tell me if they suspect him to be armed. Do you need a gun?"

Lawrence shook his head and pulled his coat aside to reveal his weapon. Anna nodded and looked at her watch.

"Keep in contact and we'll meet for dinner at 6:00 beneath the hospital."

"Where's that again?" Lawrence asked.

"Dick's."

"I love that place," Dean grinned. "Cool hats."

Sam smiled and Anna laughed.

"Okay let's go. Be careful."


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: Sam and Dean aren't mine. Anna, Tibbs and Bernard are.**

**A/N: I hate this chapter. I struggled through it, but I'm just not satisfied. The next one should be much better, though. I think the next two may finish up the story. Yay! A light at the end of the tunnel.**

* * *

Bernard saw her before she saw him. He relished the moments he could watch her before he had to move. The crowd moving along the riverbank bustled in the pre-Fiesta fervor and someone jostled Anna, pushing her into the guy walking beside her.

When the man held onto her and began guiding her through the crowd Bernard frowned. Anna laughed and at the man's antics and the sight of her smile made Bernard's heart race. Her hair glowed in shades of coffee and copper in the sunlight and her eyes shone. He understood what had kept his brother enthralled, for he felt it too. It was hard to resist a girl who radiated such warmth and sexuality.

The man began to speak, but Anna didn't answer. A moment later she frowned and shook her head. She began speaking rapidly, paused and then began talking again, gesticulating angrily. She stopped moving and the man with her began talking. She shook her head and turned away.

And she saw him. Bernard smiled a little and saluted her with his glass. She began to move toward him just as a group of tourists cut her off. When she disappeared into the crowd Bernard tossed a few bills onto the table and left through the restaurant to exit on the street.

She had come for him, but she had not come alone. Let her man try and protect her, she would not escape his grasp again.

* * *

Anna and Dean walked in silence. She tried to think of something to say, but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't upset Lawrence. She didn't want to hurt him more than necessary if she could help it.

Before she could move a group of tourists pushed by and Anna found herself in Dean's arms.

"You know," Dean smiled. "If you wanted a hug you could have just asked."

"What was that?" Lawrence called.

Anna burst out laughing. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

Dean took her elbow and led her through the crowd to a clearing behind a tree.

"Anything where you guys are?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Lawrence answered. "Do you think he could have gone to Austin or Dallas?"

Anna shook her head.

"No, I don't think so. Wrong group of people there. He's here somewhere. We just have to-"

"Anna," Lawrence cut in. "I just don't think he's here."

"Well lick your nose or something, Tibbs, 'cause I'm telling you he's here."

"I think you're wrong."

Anna stood still and clenched her jaw. Dean put a hand on her shoulder and spoke up.

"Look, we've only been looking for half an hour. Sammy, where are y'all at?"

Anna tuned out the conversation and turned away from the river. Then she saw him. She inhaled sharply and her entire body tensed.

Bernard smiled and raised his glass to her. His eyes held a look Anna had never seen before. He watched her hungrily and she felt uncomfortable, afraid.

"Tibbs, I see him," she murmured and began toward her prey, only to be stopped by a crush of people. She pushed through to the steps of the restaurant where she had seen him, but found only an empty table.

"Damn it."

* * *

"Annie!" Dean called. She had taken off into the crowd and he couldn't see her.

"What happened?" Lawrence called in his ear.

"Anna. She took off."

"Tibbs, get over here!" Anna's voice sounded panicked. Dean spun around. Where was she?

"What's your twenty? We're coming."

"I'm heading up to street level behind the Starbucks," her voice spoke in Dean's ear. He took off toward the green maiden. From the corner of his eye Dean saw Lawrence and Sam crossing the bridge to get to his location.

"Anna, wait for us!" Sam called.

Anna yelped and then Dean heard her shout, "Damn it!"

Dean turned the corner and took the stairs two at a time. In his ear he heard Lawrence curse as Sam yelled for people to move.

"Forget it," Anna said in a pained voice. "I lost him."

Dean reached the top of the landing and saw Anna walking toward him. Relief washed through him and his gut unclenched to see her safe as he moved to meet her. Then anger took over and he grabbed her roughly by the elbow, pulling her back toward the stairs.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," he seethed. She met his gaze and Dean stopped moving. He watched her for a long moment, afraid to move as the world fell away around them.

"Anna!" Lawrence's voice broke the spell. The pair jumped apart as Sam and Lawrence turned the corner at the landing. An uncomfortable silence fell on the group.

"Come on," Anna said at last. "Let's go home. We'll come back tonight."

* * *

From his hiding spot across the street Bernard watched the group leave.

_So,_ he thought. _My brother has a rival._

A cruel smile played on his lips as he noticed his brother glaring at the stranger. Tonight he would hunt, and Anna would come to him. tonight he would take her away from his brother _and_ the Winchester.


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the boys, but if I did, aww yeah.**

**A/N: Sorry that this took so long to get out! The story is finished in its entirety on my computer, and just waiting to come forth now. I want thoughts and ideas for what you'd like Anna and the boys to do next! You get to pick the next plot!**

* * *

Anna was blasting the soundtrack to "Gunslinger Girls," allowing the remixed arias to drown out her thoughts. She needed instinct, not thought. Bernard would make his move tonight and she needed to figure out where he would start. The moon was already full in the evening sky. Bernard would be strongest tonight and she had been authorized to take any measures necessary to ensure his removal from public. 

Bernard's image swam before her eyes. He had changed, somehow. Bernard had never seen her before as anything but a nuisance. Why had he looked at her like that today? What had she seen in his eyes? That had not been the prey mocking its hunter. Nor had it been a nod to an old acquaintance. His eyes had burned into her, and she realized with a start that Bernard saw her as a woman. And for the first time, as the violins played around her, Anna saw Bernard as a man. Not the older brother of her college sweetheart, and not as a dangerous animal to be captured, but as a man, deadly and dangerous.

In her mind, wheels began to turn. She would not catch him tonight with the same ploy she had used four years ago. This time, Bernard would be caught by base instinct and lip-gloss. He was hunting her too, but Anna was about to turn the tables.

Upstairs in the blue bedroom, Dean lay across his bed and stared the ceiling fan listening to the strains of 'Il Dopo Sogno' float up from the kitchen. Anna seemed to be a musical creature, using melody to soother her moods and help her mind flow. All the music did for Dean, though, was make him anxious. He wanted to go already. The bastard was out there, ready to hunt, and Dean hated just sitting around waiting for night.

He stood and walked into the bathroom for a shower. Ten minutes later, he felt lighter, but still troubled about tonight. The music had stopped and he thought of Anna. Unwanted questions kept pushing their way forward in his head.

What if she had caught up to Bernard? Would he have killed her to escape? Would Dean have heard her scream through that earpiece? Could he have gotten there in time to help her? Did she still love Lawrence?

Dean stopped short of his suitcase with that thought and immediately banished any others. This was not somewhere he could afford to go, not with Anna. Not with any girl, really. On some level Dean could understand why her brother, and in a small way his own, had tried to stay out of hunting. Being a hunter meant being alone. Hunting made relationships dangerous. Loved ones could become targets for your enemies, victims to bend your resolve. Falling in love could be fatal. Sam had already proved that.

Dean had just pulled on fresh shorts and jeans when someone knocked on his door.

"Yeah," he called out, digging for a clean shirt. Behind him the door opened and he glanced back to see whom it was.

Anna stood in his doorway, still in her clothes from the afternoon, minus her shoes. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Dean watched, spellbound, as Anna took in his appearance. He saw the quick flash of desire in her eyes and was disappointed when she pushed it away. He wished for a second that they were just normal people. Normal people were allowed to act on attraction when it could lead to more.

"I want to talk to you about tonight." Her voice was pitched low, and Dean felt his gut clench. She was nervous. She _did_ want him. But this was business, so he quickly pulled on a shirt and motioned for her to sit.

"Go ahead."

"I think I know a way to get Bernard with a minimum of fuss, but it will require you and Lawrence to trust me." Anna was definitely anxious. Her plan would involve becoming bait, and Anna hated being the bait. She related her plan to Dean and nervously watched his jaw working as he tried not to clench his teeth. Dean was now, officially, pissed. Anna waited for him to respond.

"It'll work," she said when he didn't.

"No way in hell," Dean ground out. "Sam! Get in here!" He stalked to the hall door and pulled it open. "Thibideaux, get in here!"

Lawrence jerked his head at the sound of his name. Lawrence had watched Anna enter Dean's room and his heart had broken. He had known better than to hope that she would be willing to forgive and forget, but he couldn't stop himself from hoping they could start again. She had told him about her teenage crush on the son of John Winchester, but what he saw in her eyes, and Dean's, was this was no crush. From the tone of Dean's voice though, Lawrence realized that he had seen nothing romantic in the hallway. Could it be that she only considered Winchester a friend?

Lawrence laughed at himself, knowing that thought to be a complete lie and moved down the hall to Dean's room, curious.

When he entered the room, he saw an angry Dean, a subdued Anna and Sam looking as confused as Lawrence felt.

"Tell them," Dean snapped. "Go ahead. See if they agree with you."

Anna took a deep breath and Lawrence narrowed his eyes when he saw her hands shaking. With a clear voice, Anna outlined her plan for the evening and Lawrence felt himself quickly becoming as angry as Dean.

"Are you mad?" he said in a steely voice.

Anna flinched and met his eyes.

"You know it will work."

"Why?" Lawrence came back. "Because I'm fool enough to be in love with you, you think he is too?"

Anna inhaled sharply and clenched her jaw. She stood slowly and narrowed her eyes at Lawrence.

"If you can think of something better, I'd love to hear it." She stepped forward and Sam moved to stop her, freezing at the glare she threw him. Her gaze snapped back to Lawrence and he suddenly thought he now knew how Bernard's prey must feel. "I'm going to catch your brother tonight, Tibbs. You can either go along with me, and maybe he'll be alive when dawn comes, or I can go alone and you _will_ be an only child. Make your choice."

Anna pushed past Lawrence and crossed the hall to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Lawrence looked up and met Dean's eyes. As one, they swore and looked away.

"I'll go talk to her," Sam said gently and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dean and Lawrence stood quietly for a moment.

"She'll do it anyway, won't she?" Dean asked.

"Yep," Lawrence returned.

"She'll kill him if we don't help her?"

"Yep."

Dean sighed and raked his fingers through his still damp hair.

"Can't we just tie her up?"

"You want to die, be my guest. That'll leave the way clear for me to get her back."

Dean glared at Lawrence.

"It's not like that."

Lawrence smiled and moved to the door.

"No guts, huh? All the better for me."

Dean watched him close the door and his hands clenched at his side.

"I really hate that guy."

* * *

Sam knocked on Anna's door. He could hear muffled words coming from Dean's room, but right now, he was more worried about the girl. He was relieved when she called for him to come in after a moment. He entered and took a moment to absorb the room. Clean whites and blues gave the room a fresh, bright appearance. The only windows were a large bay window with a seat built into the alcove. Anna sat there, knees to her chest and her hair falling around her like a curtain. 

"You okay?"

Anna looked up to him and shook her head. Sam crossed the room to sit with her.

"They'll help. Don't worry." Anna grunted a small scoff and Sam pushed on. "Look, Lawrence is just worried, and Dean's a jerk." Anna laughed a little and Sam smiled. After a moment, though he became serious. "Listen, to be honest, I don't like your idea, either. But I agree, it's probably our best bet to catch him without anyone getting hurt."

Sam took her hand in his and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and moved to hold her in his arms. He had only known Anna for a few days, but she had quickly become the closest thing to a sister he had ever had, in spite of the female friends he had had in college. They shared a connection, through hunting, through college, and through Dean. The silence between them was comfortable. Sam knew Anna was steeling herself against the coming night.

* * *

Bernard looked out over the downtown skyline from his luxurious hotel room. The price had been outrageous, but understandable considering the hotel's location right along the Riverwalk. There was no atmosphere, though, to the hotel. It was simply a cookie cutter creation, not built with any historical significance or value. The Valencia had caught Bernard's eye, but he knew his brother would search there for him, expecting Bernard to maintain his pattern. 

She was somewhere in the city, planning for him. She would try to capture him, and Anna was too smart to think he'd fall for the helpless bit again.

Four years ago, Bernard had been strung out and let his animal nature take control. Only half wolf, unlike his darling younger brother, Bernard was an aberration. His transformation took on more of the Hollywood image of a werewolf than the true form of his father's heritage. Because of this, he had never been fully accepted into the pack or by the Den, the council of wolves. So, like any other "outsider" in a family, Bernard had rebelled. It was easy to succumb to vice in New Orleans, particularly when one had money.

He had begun to party and to use. His memory had large gaps, sometimes days at a time went missing, and Bernard always woke to find himself at home, Lawrence watching over him. he had resented that as much, if not more, than he had hated being ostracized. That was when he consciously began to develop his taste for hunting. The scent of fear in his victims became more intoxicating for him than the purest powder, the cleanest rock.

Bernard disappeared into the shadows of the city and led the Den on a three-month long wild goose chase. It had all ended when the Den had tired of the game and called in MacKeary, a professional hunter. Geoff MacKeary had worked with Lawrence to shepherd Bernard into a specific alley, and Bernard played along until he was greeted with his first glance of Anna MacKeary.

He had heard about the girl his brother was dating for months and knew who she was on sight. Chocolate curls hung from a high ponytail and when she turned to face him, Bernard was gone. Tendrils of silk kissed her cheeks and her skin glowed in the moonlight. Her eyes had been wide with fear and the gun shook in her trembling hand. But she hadn't screamed. She just watched him, her breaths visible in the chill air. Bernard morphed back into his human form in an attempt to reassure her, angry at his brother for endangering the girl.

Anna's eyes never strayed from his own as he stepped toward her, naked. That should have been his first clue, he now realized. She had been too scared to scream, but not embarrassed at the sight of his nude form moving toward her in the night.

"Don't be scared," Bernard had whispered. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," she had answered. Bernard remembered the way his heart constricted when she said that. For a split second, he allowed himself to think she felt it too. Images of her leaving Lawrence for him, loving him, sunlit mornings and days spent in bed flashed through his mind. All his fantasies were swept away, however, when pain exploded in his shoulder. Bernard had fallen to his knees, eyes wide with shock, as Anna lowered her gun and stepped carefully toward him. There was no trace of fear in her, and her hand was steady as a rock. It had all been an act.

"I'm sorry," she had said. "It's just a tranquilizer. I know it hurts." Bernard gasped in pain and braced himself against the ground with his uninjured arm, never breaking eye contact with her. "Just breathe." Her voice was calm and steady. "The pain will be gone soon."

Bernard fell to one side and rolled onto his back. Voices and shouts came from somewhere in the distance, muffled by the fog wrapping itself around his brain. She had covered him with her coat and the last thing Bernard remembered clearly from that night was the feel of her warm hand stroking his hair, the tears in her eyes, and the fresh scent of summer rain and wildflowers.

Tonight would be different, though. She wouldn't catch him so easily again. Tonight he would hunt _her _and revel in her fear. Tonight she would scream his name, one way or another. And tonight, Bernard would finally break himself free of her spell.


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: Sam, Dean and the Supernatural concept aren't mine. If they were, I'd have highlights. :(**

* * *

Anna walked down to the river with a racing heart. Neither Dean nor Lawrence had spoken to her the entire way here except to clarify their part in her plan. Sam had smiled apologetically, as if to say, "I'm sorry men are idiots." 

Her plan. Anna felt her heart skip a beat, and the tingling down her arm warned her to breathe. Deep breaths brought the rising panic attack under control and Anna forced herself into hunting mode. Like switching off a light, Anna shut her emotions down.

From his place across the river, Sam saw the light leave her eyes and he watched the girl from the factory emerge once more. She had straightened her hair for the evening, and left it hanging down her back. It gleamed in the lamplight like sunlight through coffee. Slowly she unbuttoned her light jacket, creating easy access to the multitude of weapons strapped to her small body. How she hid them all, Sam had no idea, but as he watched her get into the night's character, he realized that the Winchesters had suddenly moved into a completely new level of hunting.

Anna moved away from the stairs toward the crosshatching of walkways near the mall. A minor labyrinth of cement bridges, Anna had chosen the place for maneuverability. Sam merged with the crowds and followed from his side of the Riverwalk, grimacing at the stench coming from the sludge at the bottom of the empty river.

"How does this river get so rank?" he questioned aloud.

"Have a few hundred drunks a month puke on you, and then tell me what you smell like," Anna's voice came, distracted. "You two in position?"

"Yes," came Lawrence's reply. He was stationed on the far end of the walkways by the convention center, blocking one escape route. Dean was positioned right outside the mall to block the path back to the street. Sam and Anna would act as herders along the banks, Anna remaining clearly visible.

"Dean?" Her voice was strained as Anna fought to keep herself neutral.

"I'm here," he answered flatly. "I still think this idea sucks."

Sam smiled at his brother's petulant tone. He hadn't heard Dean so upset over a capture plan since they had been forced to catch a flight some months before. Sam looked down at his watch. Nearly midnight. Soon the hunt would begin in earnest, and Sam felt the familiar rush of adrenaline.

"Sam, anything?"

Sam cleared his thoughts and looked around him. Something tickled at the back of his brain and he turned toward Anna in time to see Bernard step out from the shadows behind her.

"Don't look now, Anna," Sam said nervously. "But you have a friend."

"Behind me?" Sam marveled at how calm she sounded. Even her movements betrayed none of the nerves he thought she would experience at the news.

"Yeah, about three yards."

Anna had to fight a laugh.

"Are we going to measure distance in klicks next?" her tone was merry, but subdued.

"When you two finish the comedy hour, could we please focus on the psycho killer stalking Anna?" Dean bit out.

Lawrence agreed with Dean and Sam caught a smile play across Anna's lips.

"Roger, Roger," she murmured.

From his location, Dean gave a growl of frustration, scaring a couple of old women with hot pink fanny-packs and fiesta beads piled on around their necks.

"What?" he snapped, and the women hurried away from the crazy young man talking to himself.

"Easy, Winchester," Lawrence soothed from his location. "We need him to miss that we're here."

Anna listened to Dean mumbling under his breath and fought away the thrill that had run through her at Lawrence's whisky velvet voice. An image of Dean as she had found him in his room earlier flashed through her mind and Anna stopped moving, taking a deep breath.

"What is it?" Sam asked from across the way. He risked a look to Bernard and saw him slip back into the shadows.

"Sorry, Sam," she returned. "Hormones."

Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"Is he still there?" she continued.

"No," Sam answered with a smile. "Not that I can see."

"He's there, then," she whispered.

Bernard followed silently behind Anna, sidestepping the oncoming tourists and ignoring the admiring glances that came his way. He had watched her steel herself for the hunt, had caught the vulnerability in her eyes before she shut herself down. 

The sway of her hips held his eyes captive, and Bernard longed to bury his face in her hair and breathe in her scent. An almost feral need to possess her seemed to have taken over, and Bernard couldn't be sure if it was Anna he wanted, or the pleasure of taking her from Lawrence.

She stopped moving suddenly and he ducked behind a stairwell, hidden by shadow. From this angle, he watched her as she spoke to thin air. Looking around he saw her accomplice. Someone new this time, across the river. A third man? Bernard grinned wolfishly as he recalled the Winchesters. This must be one of them, which meant the possessive one from the afternoon was also a Winchester. This meant that Lawrence and the second Winchester were waiting for him somewhere, and Anna was the bait. Fools. Did they really think he wouldn't figure it out? Did they think he was that stupid, to just blindly follow her tail anywhere?

"Bernard," Anna spoke, breaking him from his reverie. "I know you're back there somewhere, so listen up. We can do this your way, or mine. Mine will be a lot gentler, I assure you."

Bernard growled low in his throat and stepped out to stand right behind her. She knew he was there, but she stayed still, letting him make the first move. In her ear, she heard Dean and Lawrence screaming at her and she ignored them. She had to try reason first.

"I remember your way, bebe. It hurt like hell and gave me the mother of all hangovers."

Anna breathed deep and Bernard could smell her sorrow, her regret.

"That was my father's way. My way you come willingly to the Den and let them help you."

"Why don't you come willingly to my den, and let _me_ help you." He pulled a long strand of her hair through his fingers. "I'm much more honest than my brother." Bernard bent low over her shoulder and at last breathed in the scent he had been craving. "You still smell the same. Like fresh rain and wildflowers." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Let me pluck you."

Anna winced at the volume of the expletives in her ear. Slowly she turned to face Bernard and leaned her head back to meet his eye.

"So we'll be doing this your way, then?"

The soft voice was gone, and Bernard found himself staring into a bored expression. His mind took a moment to register that she had rejected him.

"Bitch," he seethed.

"So I'm told," Anna shrugged.

Bernard struck like lightening, and Anna had no time to block. She felt the air move around her and watched Bernard grow distant. Pain exploded in her left shoulder and hip right before she found herself on her knees. The unrelenting stench told her before her eyes could stop spinning that she was in the riverbed.

"Anna!" Sam was calling her.

She looked up to watch as Bernard jumped into the river with her. People on the banks were screaming and she pulled herself to her feet to fling her body out of Bernard's reach. He hit the wall and spun back to her. Sam jumped down on top of the tall man as Anna scrambled back. Bernard threw Sam off his shoulders and sent him skidding across the mud to land near Anna, who stood and pulled a large gun from her hip and leveled it at Bernard. He roared in frustration, his face morphing into its other form, and he bolted along the riverbed away from the muddy pair.

"Annie!" Dean was frantic. "Sammy!"

"That son of a bitch owes me a new jacket," she bit out. "Off your ass, Sam!"

"Please don't talk about my mother like that," Lawrence drawled.

Anna chuckled and took off after Bernard without a look back. After a second, she heard Sam behind her.

* * *

**A/N: Seriously folks. The next chapter will see this tale done. What do you want them to hunt next?**


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I have short bangs now. I feel like a heroin from a Karen Marie Moning book. MMmmm... Highlanders... Anyway:shifty eyes: I don't own the Supernatural concept or either of the guys. But... yeah... Shigure, Ayame, Sam, Dean, Carth and Atton... Pairs are good.**

**A/N: So, I've now fixed Ch 13. There were some problems with it (mostly due to my failure to make sure I edited) and I have now repaired the booboos. :-D Remember, I need your suggestions for what the boys and Anna should go after next! If not, there's gonna be time hopping visions for Sam and wierdness. No joke. I'll do it:shifty eyes:**

* * *

"He's coming!" She called to alert Lawrence and Dean. 

"Are you okay?" Lawrence murmured.

"Dislocated shoulder, maybe," Anna replied. "He's on the riverbed, I'm about thirty feet behind. Keep an eye open."

Anna's side hurt like hell, but she ran through the mud desperate to keep Bernard in sight. Behind her, Sam focused entirely on the werewolf, ignoring the screams of tourists overhead. He hadn't transformed yet, but this whole thing would get ten times harder if he did.

Lawrence watched Dean for any sign they were approaching. Anna was focused on the hunt, now, and would be lethal. He only hoped she didn't kill his brother. Dean watched from his position for Bernard to come around the corner. Construction had cut off the river toward La Villita, leaving only the stretch toward the mall open. Anna was hurt and dean found himself close to panic. Even Sam injured had never left him feeling this way. He suddenly had a better understanding of why Sam and Anna's brother hadn't wanted to get involved in the family business.

There! He was coming.

"Look alive, Tibbs!" Anna called.

Bernard sprinted past the bridge and skidded to a halt. The river was closed. A glance over his shoulder showed Anna and the Winchester getting closer, and Bernard weighed his options quickly. The mall or the sidewalks? Too many people to slow him down up above. The mall.

Anna hid a smile as Bernard darted under the bridge toward the mall.

"He's here!" Dean called to Lawrence.

"Sam, keep on him!" Anna called over her shoulder as she passed the bridge. She had to get up. She couldn't fight in the mud.

She pulled herself up the construction equipment like a child on a playground and peeled her jacket off. People around her gasped and squealed in shock at the sight of a muddy girl covered in guns as she ran past them, heading for the pathways. Ahead of her, she watched as Dean and Lawrence dropped the teargas bombs into the riverbed, blocking the paths out. Bernard stopped and looked around. Sam came up behind Bernard, gun drawn, and effectively blocked the last path out. Bernard took his only route and jumped.

Anna stopped, amazed. Bernard had just jumped twenty feet in the air and landed on the center platform of the sidewalks. She was vaguely aware of Sam pulling himself up the sidewall of the river as Dean and Lawrence moved to block Bernard's possible moves. Anna's body moved on its own and she took up another block position as Sam moved into the last place. Bernard looked around him at the standoff that had begun, panic tinting his eyes black.

Anna felt the same way she had that night. He was a creature who needed freedom, and all she could do was catch him. Nevertheless, Bernard had become dangerous. He had to be caught.

Dean moved first, followed by Lawrence, with Bernard matching their blows. Dean was sent flying into a trashcan, a painful flight seeing as the wrought iron holder was bolted to the ground. Lawrence dodged a blow and got a good hit in that sent Bernard reeling back into Sam's waiting fist. Bernard recovered quickly and sent Sam crashing into Dean who had just about regained his footing. Bernard spun to square off with Lawrence and bared his teeth. To Anna's shack, Lawrence returned the challenge, his own eyes shifting to black.

She motioned to Sam and Dean to stay back as the brothers began to grapple. Snarls and growls became louder as the brothers began to morph out of and back to their human forms. Bernard ducked a cross from Lawrence and delivered a shattering uppercut that sent Lawrence flying.

"Tibbs!"

Bernard spun to see Anna move toward Lawrence. He growled and she paused. Dean and Sam were on their feet now, and Sam moved toward Lawrence who was sitting up slowly.

Anna met Bernard's eyes and she felt like a deer in headlights. She couldn't look away. She was frozen under his glare.

Slowly Bernard began to change. Muscles bulged and reshaped, bones popped out of place before snapping into another location. In seconds, Bernard changed from a man to lichen, the werewolf of legend. Gone were the refined features and masculinity. Instead, Anna was faced with a terrifying creature. Calm spread through her as she forgot about the man and began to focus only on the creature. A creature, a killer, to be caught without remorse.

Sam brought Lawrence to his feet and the three men watched as both Bernard and Anna changed before their eyes. Anna unbuckled the guns from her chest and let them fall to the ground at her feet, all without breaking eye contact with Bernard. All she now had left on her was the gun in the small of her back, the gun she was never without. Then she sprang on him, and Lawrence watched in horror. Anna struck hard and Bernard had a hard time blocking her, even with his added power and speed. The Winchesters had no idea the small woman could move so quickly, but Sam saw the same competence he had experienced at the warehouse.

Anna's blows made Bernard stagger back a few steps into the rail. Anna then stepped back to deliver a kick, but Bernard took the advantage to lunge forward and knock her back onto the ground. Faster than she could recover, Bernard reached forward and grabbed her left arm, yanking her body around so Anna was on her knees. A scream tore from her throat as her shoulder became truly dislocated and Bernard changed back to a man, his clothes hanging from him in rags. He pressed a foot into her back, forcing the shoulder further from its socket, and Anna screamed again, a deep raw sound that Bernard found oddly arousing.

Dean and Sam pulled their guns and trained them on Bernard.

"Go ahead and shoot," he sneered. "I'll rip her arm off."

Anna bent her head to the ground, trying to brace her body with her free arm, trying to relieve the tension that shot fire through her arm. Her breathing came labored and ragged. She couldn't think for the pain, but she knew she'd be damned if she'd scream again. A sudden growl brought her head up.

Lawrence had abandoned his human form, and in his place stood a very large and very angry white wolf. Lawrence took a step forward and bared his teeth at his brother, willing for the first time to cause Bernard harm.

"Angry little brother?" Bernard taunted him. "Or are you just jealous I got her to scream for me." Bernard tilted his head and a cold grin spread across his lips. "Tell me, Lawrence. Did she ever scream for you?"

Lawrence snapped an angry growl and took another step forward. Bernard shook Anna's arm and she gasped, lowering her head again. Lawrence backed away, eyes burning. For the first time in his life, Lawrence could truly say he hated his brother.

Dean watched Anna struggling under Bernard's foot, but didn't dare fire.

"Anna," Sam said gently. "Was this part of the plan?"

Anna chuckled.

"Not exactly," she answered. "But it'll do."

Before Bernard could react, Anna swept a leg forward to brace her body, reached back and pulled her gun to fire across her back into Bernard's foot. The projectile grazed across her skin and she screamed an expletive of her own as Bernard reeled back, taking her arm with him. He howled in pain and she spun her body, pushing the shoulder back toward, but not into, its socket and she fired again.

Pain exploded through Bernard's chest and he fell backward, releasing Anna, into the railing. She stood slowly and stared straight into his eyes, just as she had that night four years ago. And just as she had back then, she mouthed once again "I'm sorry."

Bernard looked down at his chest and was surprised to see a dart sticking out of his chest. He looked into her eyes as realization dawned. The little bitch had trapped him again.

Anna moved forward to catch Bernard as he fell to the ground, a clumsy catch considering she only had one arm functioning. She set him gently on the ground and then stepped away from him. Bernard was vaguely aware of voices and other bodies moving around him, but his senses remained tuned to Anna until the black took him.

Anna cradled her injured arm against her body as she tried to avoid the Den's retrieval team. They moved quickly and efficiently to strap Bernard to a gurney and remove him to the waiting ambulance. Lawrence came up beside her and Dean and Sam were already at her side. It made no sense.

Nothing about Bernard's capture made sense. It hadn't the first time, and this time was no different.

_Since when, though? S_he wondered to herself. _Since when has _any_ hunt made sense?_

The next day, Lawrence was ready to return to New Orleans and the Den. He wasn't sure what he could do for Bernard, but he had to try. Lawrence lowered the last of his few bags into his car's trunk and looked up the lawn to Anna. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.

With her shoulder injured, it would be a few weeks before she could hunt again, and she had welcomed her vacation with open arms. She stood now on her porch in a plain pair of jeans and a white crocheted top, her feet bare and her dark curls hanging loose down her shoulders and back. Her arm was in a sling and was the only indication of the previous night's hunt. She was lovely, and Lawrence felt the familiar pang of regret. Regret for having deceived her. Regret for having lost her. Regret at not having fought for her.

_Screw that._

Lawrence crossed the lawn and took the porch steps two at a time. Anna watched him coming with a confused expression. He looked determined, a look she hadn't seen from him in years. Before she could react, Lawrence's arms were around her and his mouth had claimed hers in a searing kiss. His lips demanded, begged and teased. Old feelings, long buried, rose and responded, eliciting a small groan from Lawrence. A flick of his tongue requested entrance, and she opened to him. Lawrence reveled in the taste and scent of Anna. He'd been a fool to leave her, even for five minutes, let alone four years.

Anna was vaguely aware that someone else was now on the porch, but she couldn't think beyond Lawrence. Gently Lawrence broke the kiss and pulled away and her mind cleared slowly. Dean. Dean was behind her. Anna tensed, but Lawrence captured her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I was wrong, and I'm not going to continue to be wrong." His eyes moved from hers to lock with Dean's glare. "I was wrong, and now I'm going to fight."

Dean raised an eyebrow, accepting the challenge silently. Lawrence gave an almost imperceptible nod and released Anna. She couldn't look away from him, and he studied her face for a long moment, then turned and walked away to his car. As Lawrence pulled away toward the highway, Dean moved up to Anna's side.

"I didn't know he would do that," Anna said slowly.

"I know," Dean answered.

Gently he turned her to him and placed a tentative kiss on her lips. Lawrence had been demanding, like a thirsty man tasting water for the first time. Dean's kiss was soft and gentle, almost as though he was introducing himself. Anna felt the ground pulling away beneath her feet and the clouds rising to carry her. Too soon, Dean pulled away and brushed a curl from her forehead, tucking the hair behind her ear.

"I don't know what this is," he murmured. Dean was not comfortable talking about what had been happening between him and Anna, and she knew better than to speak now. Dean couldn't quite bring himself to meet her gaze, afraid of what he might see. "I don't know what's going on, but I won't just _let_ him have you." Dean turned away into the house and took the stairs to his room two at a time.

"What the hell?" Anna was alone.

Anna sighed and crossed the threshold, closing the door behind her. Sam was sitting in the kitchen with what had to be his third cup of coffee, checking his email on his laptop. Anna fixed herself a cup of coffee, cursing the extra time it took because of her bum arm. Sam laughed at Anna's inventive tongue and waited for her to join him at the table.

"Interesting morning, huh?"

Anna watched Sam through the steam from her coffee and smiled slowly.

"A very _nice_ morning," she answered.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Sam asked. Anna nodded.

"I won't be any good to you right now. I'll take a week or so off until the sling comes off, then I'll use the next few weeks the doc suggested catching up in the warehouse."

Sam smiled.

"We'll miss you."

Anna smiled and took a slow sip of her coffee.

"Y'all can come back for me in a couple of months. I should be ready to go by then."

Anna waved from the porch in response to Sam's hand out the window. Dean stepped past her, moved toward the stairs, and stopped. Anna just watched him, letting Dean decide for himself what to do. He turned, hands in pockets, and smiled shyly. Anna swallowed a laugh at the frightened look in his eyes, and bent to kiss his cheek.

"Be safe," she murmured in his ear.

Dean stepped forward and captured his favorite curl in his fingertips.

"Don't go hunting until we come back." Dean's voice was pitched low and close to cracking. Anna heard all that he was trying to say in that statement and nodded her head.

"I already made plans to work from here on the warehouse."

Dean sighed in relief and, without another word, turned away and moved to his Impala. At the door, he paused and looked up at Anna again, taking a mental picture. The snap of a shutter echoed in his ear until Sam's voice pulled him out of his daydream.

"Look, I took a picture. Let's go."

Dean grinned and climbed in behind the wheel, bringing the black beast to life. One last glance at Anna as he shifted into gear, and Dean pulled away, following the road to the highway.

"We could have stayed," Sam said carefully.

"Shut up," Dean said with a smile. Sam returned the smile and leaned back, ready for the road. Sun glinted off Dean's hand and he looked at the almost forgotten gift from his dad.

"As I hold my honor by fang and claw," he murmured to himself. _With kisses, too_, he thought.

Sam saw his brother's gaze, and knew what Dean was thinking. With a smile, he leaned back again, getting comfortable. He made a silent bet with himself that they would be coming back to Texas before a month was done.


End file.
